


It Runs in the Family

by BubblyBee



Category: Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: Cannibalism, Emotional Manipulation, False Accusations, Family, Fear, Heavy Angst, Insane Wilbur Soot, Jealousy, Jschlatt is a bit of a dick but he's still a good guy, Kidnapping, M/M, Murder, Non-Consensual Drug Use, None of the Sleepy boys are really morally or lawfully good here, Not between any of the SBI's, Obsession, Obsessive Behavior, Philza is seemingly a good dad but not really, Police, Possessive Behavior, Separation Anxiety, Sexual Harassment, Stalking, Tommy just wants a friend but really is going about it the wrong way, Violence, please don't come after me fandom, some fluff every now and then but rarely, tbh the only saveable one in this family is Tommy and thats like barely, that is, this is entirely fucked and pure angst im sorry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-26
Updated: 2021-03-11
Packaged: 2021-03-18 22:02:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 22,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28999473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BubblyBee/pseuds/BubblyBee
Summary: Small town life can be wonderful, with a tight-knit community, and mom and pop stores on every corner, but with people constantly going missing, and many of them turning up dead, it’s hard to feel safe.Unless of course, you’re the reason for those people going missing.Phil Dugal and his three sons, Techno, Wilbur, and Tommy, live just outside of town on their little family farm. The youngest, Tommy, is nearing his 18th birthday, and so will soon be joining in on the family ‘business’. How exciting! Phil can’t wait to see who he chooses.(SBI as a family of serial killers AU. Lots of sensitive topics in this one, so read the tags carefully! They’ll be updated with each chapter.)
Relationships: Darryl Noveschosch/Technoblade, Jschlatt/Wilbur Soot
Comments: 83
Kudos: 588





	1. From Past to Present

**Author's Note:**

> Please don't come after me fandom, i'm begging you here ;u;  
> This fic is very different from my other fic, and plays with a lot darker topics so be warned. If you're here and didn't read the tags, please go read them to know what you are getting into. This isn't a fic for the faint of heart.

Schlatt’s foot tapped on the concrete, impatient, as he waited for the bus. Being a bartender meant long hours and having to deal with cranky attendees- the bitter chill of the night nipping at his skin.

'Where the fuck is the bus?' He thought grumpily, shaky breaths leaving him. Why did he take the late shift, goddamnit?

'Because you're broke as fuck and need the damn money.' His mind snapped back, further worsening his mood. He growled under his breath, huffing, "Fuck this shit!" He dug in his pocket for his phone, dialing a number he'd known for years. He knew it was far too late to be calling him, but he knew he had a car and- well he was his best friend, right? He wouldn't mind...

It rang twice before being picked up, "Yo, baby-cakes!" A cheerful and all-too-eager voice rang through his cell and he rolled his eyes at the nickname, "Don't call me that. Wil, could you come to pick me up?"

"Ooooo- You're just in luck! You're at your work-place, right?"

"Yep." It wasn't strange that Wilbur knew he was staying late- he was sure he had told him about it at some point, "Bus is late and I’m getting quite antsy."

"It's no problem. I was just at the market- Tommy caught a bad cold from a kid at school and we're out of Nyquil."

"Damn, and I thought Phil never ran out of medicine. Tommy though- How's the little shit anyway?"

"Eh, you know him. Wreaking chaos and such- he's actually starting to pick up photography! Really good at it, actually- oh, I'm just around the corner, see me?" He turned his head to the left and grinned when he saw the familiar car, "Yep." Hanging up, he jogged down the sidewalk as Wilbur slowed down. He passed one of the other workers and they called out to him, "Schlatt? Thought you took the bus..."

"Bus is late, my buddy’s giving me a ride!" The taller man glanced at the red car suspiciously. It was hard to see Wilbur through the tinted glass. Schlatt found it strange that he hadn’t gotten in legal trouble for it, but it was Wilbur and Wilbur always knew the weirdest loopholes. Looking slightly perturbed, his coworker looked back to him nervously, "Alright...well, stay safe." Schlatt rolled his eyes as he opened the car door, calling back, "Will do!"

Slipping into the seat, Wilbur's voice rang in his ears. There was an off smell in the car- well, off to anybody but Schlatt- but he couldn’t quite put his finger down in it, "Who was that?"

"Eh, just a coworker of mine."

Wilbur nodded, kicking the car into drive and pulling back onto the road. As they drove, he slowly recalled having asked Wil about that smell before. Him and Phil had gone hunting- shot a deer, and drove home with it in the back.

When they’d gotten home, the carcass left a terrible smell in the car- the scent of death. Wilbur had done everything to get the smell out- practically power washing the car’s insides- but it was no use. The smell was always just subtly lingering in the air, despite Wilbur’s attempt to mask it with pine scents and other car fresheners.   
Soon enough, Schlatt began talking about the difficulties and stresses of the day as Wilbur listened patiently. Eventually, Wilbur turned into an old dirt road and Schlatt grew confused, “Uh...Wil? This isn’t the way to my apartment…” Wilbur hummed, something shining in his warm brown eyes, “I know! Your apartments are a bit far though sooo...I thought it would be easier for you to spend the night at my house!”    
The bartender felt something making him uneasy creep up his spine, but quickly brushed it off. He didn’t have anything to be scared of, so what the hell was his problem? Wilbur wasn’t acting weird, this was normal. They’d done this before.

‘He’s just...being Wilbur.’ Schlatt assured himself, taking a breath, ‘Just...regular, weird as all shit Wilbur…’   
Trying to lighten the mood, he brought up the one highlight of his day, "Oh! You know that irish chick with purple hair?"

"Minx?"

"Yea! Guess what?"

Wilbur glanced at him with a playful grin, "Another drinking contest?"

"What? No-"

"Hah- Alright then, you got me." Wilbur said playfully. Schlatt grinned widely, pride swelling in his chest, "I have a date-" He choked as Wilbur suddenly slammed his foot on the brake, stopping dead in the middle of the road. He braced himself against the dash, looking at the other man in surprise, "Wilbur, what the hell man?!" Wilbur's grip on the wheel was so tight his knuckles were turning white, jaw set and body stiff with wide eyes, "You- what?" He sounded like the air was just punched out of his gut, voice shaky.

"I have a date- and what the fuck was that?!"

"You..." Schlatt grew concerned, reaching towards the other man, "Wil-" Wilbur wrestled his seatbelt off, "I need air." He snapped, opening the car door and stepping out. The other man followed, confused and concerned as he followed Wilbur, "Wil what the hell is up with you? I know you have some bad mood swings and all but jesus that was-"

"Shut up!! Shut up I need to think fucking- fuck!!" 

Wilbur slammed his hands down on the hood, head down and bangs hanging in front of his eyes, "You can't- I don't- do you not understand how this works?!" He snapped, hyperventilating and head snapping towards Schlatt with crazed eyes.

"Wilbur...you are scaring me...Wil!!" He called out, backing away slowly as he saw Wilbur pull something out of his pocket, a large grin spreading across the taller man's face. Wilbur’s hand shot out, grabbing the front of his sweatshirt in a death grip. Schlatt thrashed, causing them both to tumble to the ground, "Wilbur fucking stop this isn't funny!!" He screamed. The headlights of the car casted their silhouettes on the road, dirt and dust kicked up around them from the struggle. Schlatt’s brain was frantic, a million thoughts racing through his head. They were outside of town- god, was anybody who could hear him out here?

He fought against Wilbur as he straddled him, screaming for help as the taller man laughed, "You- You were supposed to be  _ mine, _ and you will be- whether you like it or not!!" He roared, stabbing the syringe into his neck and injecting something. Yanking it out, Wilbur watched as the man under him slowly stopped struggling. Schlatt’s world spun, growing dark as his voice grew weaker and weaker- till finally, his hand dropped and all he saw was black.

=One week later=

The noirette pinned up another poster, hearing a sob from the brunette by him. He looked at him with sympathy, reaching out and pulling him into a hug, "Hey...it's okay Traves. We'll find him, I promise..."

"I knew this would happen, Bad! I told him I had a bad feeling, and so did Slime!"

"We can't give up hope yet. Someone's bound to see him, and my Pa is on the case..." He gave a comforting smile to the taller boy, "How about I finish tacking up the missing posters, and you call Cooper to pick you up. Go to the arcade, get some ice cream- just occupy yourself. It'll be okay..." Traves nodded slowly, sniffling as he wiped his tears with his sleeves. He walked off, sitting on a bench and calling who Bad only hoped was Cooper.

Bad looked at the poster, reading it over again.

**MISSING:**

**Johnthan Jebediah Schlatt**

_ Italian male _

_ Brunette with brown eyes. _

_ Age: 20 _

_ Last seen wearing: Blue sweatshirt, jeans, Yankee cap, vans shoes. _

_ Last sighting: Vinnie's Bar & Grill _

_ If you have any information, please call the police or any of these following numbers. _

Bad sighed, eyes tearing up. It was just yet another missing person in their town- and he knew they'd probably just end up with another dead body to write in the obituary soon. He wouldn't tell that to Traves though- he wanted to give him some hope, even if it was false.

He walked to another building, taping up the poster when he felt eyes in his back. He looked over his shoulder subtly, a chill passing over his body as he saw an older man across the street watching him. Blond hair tied back in a small ponytail and green straw hat hiding his eyes.

'Traves is here. You aren't alone. You're fine.'

He looked away, taking a deep breath. There was a noise behind him and he turned again, eyes widening as the man was gone again. He shuddered, turning back to the poster.

Bad had a terrible feeling in his stomach- the feeling settling like a storm cloud over him.

He had the feeling that he might be the next face on a missing poster.

=Several weeks later=

The next few weeks were...strange. Bad felt like he was constantly being watched and followed. He no longer felt safe on his own, the way things were going with the searches and had even started keeping his pepper spray on hand. He didn’t know why he felt these things, but he just…

No...Bad knew why he was feeling these things.

It felt like he kept seeing that man with the blond hair and green straw hat everywhere- as if that man was following his every move. In the store, at the parking lot, at his work, on his college campus- even once when he was at his house, he saw him down the road and started freaking out.

At first, he just brushed it off. They lived in a small town that wasn’t that far from about five or six other towns. It could just be pure coincidence.

But then it just...kept happening. Over and over, it just kept happening, and Bad had grown increasingly more paranoid. He was just glad he didn’t live alone, because at least that allowed him peaceful sleep.

His phone rang, and he looked at the text curiously before smiling. On the screen, in blue letters was a name familiar to him for years.

'Geppy <3'   
Bad and Skeppy had been attached at the hip since they were small and had remained that way for years. Skeppy’s parents were higher class, but they never really turned their noses up at Bad and were quite nice people. They were happy when Skeppy had asked Bad to live with him after highschool- after all, the house was comfortable, big enough for two, and they had both gotten into the same college. It had helped Bad save up for his first car with his low-pay job at the diner, and well, it was with his best friend- one he had a steady dynamic with.

Sure, they had their squabbles sometimes because Skeppy’s behavior was...less than mature...but they were still best friends, through and through.

The noirette opened the text with a warm smile, but he froze as he read it.

“Oh no…”

=x=

The two had been at it all night, their fight loud enough to shake the walls. Words were exchanged that were regretful, hearts broken and anger exchanged as they tore into each other. Bad was sick of Skeppy’s behavior getting him in trouble, and Skeppy being tired of Bad always taking the blame for his stuff then whining about it later.   
Yes, they had fought before.

No, it had never gotten this bad.

Sometimes it was bad enough to make Bad walk out, other times it had them slamming doors on each other. However, it was never bad enough to make Skeppy kick him out. Especially not in the dead of night with nothing but his packed bag and wearing only one of Skeppy’s oversized hoodies and shorts.

Now, Skeppy paced the wood floor in worry. He hadn’t meant to say the thing’s he did- he was stupidly angry when he had no right to be, and now Bad was probably somewhere shivering and cold and-

Dammit, he was  _ so _ going to spoil Bad to bits when he got back.

Well, that was if Bad actually answered his phone. Skeppy had given him  thirty missed calls, left him twenty-two voicemails, fifty four texts, and now had tried to facetime him four different times. It had only hit him about how dangerous it was for Bad to be going out alone at night when he’d glanced at all those missing posters. Bad had them tacked on his wall, trying to figure out what happened to all those people. He was focused on one in particular though, and that was one Johnathan Schlatt. Skeppy didn’t blame him, either. They both knew the guy, real smart, could be nice when he wanted but otherwise was a bit of an asshole.

Those posters reminded him exactly why it was dangerous to go out at night. There were people going missing without a trace every few months, and even though Schlatt’s body hadn’t been found it was likely he was dead and gone already. Skeppy wanted him back home, before anything horrible happened.

As the phone rang for what felt like the hundredth time, Skeppy felt a wave of relief and joy wash over him as Bad finally answered. He’d never been so relieved to hear Bad’s voice and see his face, heart breaking as he saw the tear streaks and the way he was shivering. It was a blur for him- the apologies, the promises, and plea to be able to come home that Skeppy granted in a heartbeat- but in moment’s he was grabbing his keys to pick Bad up, telling him to stay where he was as Skeppy started running downstairs. He ran out the door, locking it behind himself before unlocking his car and getting in.

That’s when Skeppy noticed it- when looking back at the face time...

That...that dark figure just behind Bad. He should have spoken sooner- should have screamed at Bad that somebody was just behind him or to run- but his voice was just seconds too late.

“Bad...what’s that behind you?”   
Bad gave him a strange look, “What do you me-” Skeppy screamed as something impacted Bad sending his phone flying out of his hand. It landed with a crack and skidded across the ground, and everything is going so fast as all he can do is shout Bad’s name. He can hear the scuffle, the way Bad screams as he’s fighting back and the impact of any hits he lands.   
Then, his screams are quieted and it slowly goes silent.

The phone is slowly picked up, and the assailant is wearing a mask that conceals anything other than a pair of soulless eyes.   
“What have you done with my friend you bastard?!” He snaps, voice hoarse as his eyes are blurry with tears. All that he gets is a small chuckle, mocking and quiet as the assailant purrs, “Don’t you worry about a thing. This little angel is in good hands, I promise~”   
His heart shatters as the face-time is ended.

=x=

There was the quiet tapping of keys, a cloud of misery hanging over the office as the report was filed, “Could you repeat the events of what happened back to me one more time.”   
His eyes were tired, unfocused and barely able to be kept open as he glared weakly at the officer, “I already told you this three times and my story hasn’t fucking changed.” He hissed.   
“Son, I need you-”   
“No!!” Skeppy screamed as he stood and slammed his hands down of the table, metal chair scraping before falling onto the floor with a clatter, “I’ve already told you everything I know, now I wanna know why there hasn’t been a single officer dispatched to fucking look for him!!”   
“Mr. Devland, i’m going to need you to calm down-”   
“Why should I calm down when my best friend is either dead, in some psycho’s basement, or- or even being tortured and raped!!” He screamed his voice hoarse, cracking and shaky, “I want a goddamn lawyer, you hear me?! If you fuckers don’t get off your ass and start looking, I have the money to sue all of you!!!”   
The noirette felt like a spoiled teen with the threats he was spewing, but could you blame him? He was desperate and on the last shred of sanity he had- Bad’s screams plagued him, and he didn’t understand why there was all this nonsense he had to go through just to get somebody to start looking. The door to the investigation room squeaked open, and in stepped someone painfully familiar to Skeppy. Someone who he knew hated his guts even when he and Bad were just kindergarteners with wild fantasies. Skeppy straightened out, taking deep breaths as he looked the taller man dead in the eyes with as much hate as he looked at Skeppy with.

“Mr. Halo.”   
“Skeppy Devland. Why am I not surprised to see you here?”   
There was silence as the other cop stood up from his chair. Mr. Halo whispered something to him, and the noirette froze as he took out a pair of handcuffs.   
“What? What’s goi-”   
“Skeppy Devland, you are under arrest under suspicion of being involved with the kidnapping of Bad Halo.”   
Skeppy felt like he was hit with ice-cold water from that statement, gawking in disbelief, “Wha- but I-” He choked on his words as he was pulled from his seat, his hands being pulled behind his back as handcuffs were snapped on. He struggled, anger rising, “What the fuck do you mean?! How?!” Mr. Halo grabbed his arm and pulled him along, eyes empty and cold as he hissed out, “I always knew you were gonna get my boy in trouble you little brat- just wish I could’ve done this sooner.”   
Skeppy’s stomach dropped as he saw they were heading to the temporary holding cells, his face draining of color, and he didn’t know what to say. How could this be happening?

The image of those deep green eyes flashed in his mind, and suddenly he realized- had he been framed?   
Had that man somehow framed him?

‘Okay mother fucker…’ Skeppy thought to himself as the cold steel handcuffs were removed and he was shoved into the cell, his rising anger drowning out Mr. Halo reading out Skeppy’s miranda rights. He breathed shakily, willing himself not to shout at the man to shut up.

‘Two can play at this game.’

=1 month later=

Skeppy straightened his tie, looking at himself in the mirror critically.

He hired the best lawyer he could. He knew he was innocent.

The only evidence of him being involved was the fact that his hoodie was at the crime scene with Bad’s blood on it. It was dna evidence and it was enough to take him to court, sure, but it wasn’t enough to prove he was guilty without a shadow of a doubt- as much as Mr. Halo liked to believe he was.

“Skep?”   
He glanced behind him to see Dream standing here, softening a bit. Dream was one of Bad’s friends, and thankfully he believed in Skeppy’s innocence. Skeppy asked why he did- sometimes even Skeppy had started to believe he really was responsible, and he’d just imagined the kidnapping- and Dream’s response was...honest to god, pretty ominous; “Call it a hunch.”

Dream was well known around town- a common, friendly face. He seemed to know all the gossip and talk about town at all times, so if you wanted to hear about pretty much anything- you went to him. He had charisma and charm, easily getting information from pretty much everybody in town. The blond tilted his head with a small smile, jingling his keys between his fingers, “You ready to go?”

Skeppy felt like he was lucky to have him as his friend now too. He let out a relieved sigh, nodding as he walked over, “Yea...lets go.”   
  
=1 year later=

“Boys! Lemonade!” There was only a single pair of footsteps, and soon enough Tommy peeked his head in the kitchen. Phil snorted, chuckling at the 16 year old as he nearly tripped. The youngest of his sons quickly grabbed his glass, giving a hurried thank you as he gathered his stuff.   
Phil raised a brow as he watched the teen stuff his camera and tape recorder in his backpack, “Going out again?”   
“Yep!”   
“You just did yesterday.” Tommy rolled his eyes, waving his father off, “Yea, but it's super humid and it rained last night, so I'm gonna go see what effects that had on my project. It needs daily maintenance, duh.”

The elder chuckled before tsking quietly. He turned his back to the teen, going to the fridge and grabbing a plastic bag, “Alright, just be back before dawn.” He checked the label, humming approval as he set it on the counter, “We’re having steak tonight.”   
“By “We”, you mean me, Wil, and Tech.” Tommy quipped as he slipped on his shoes, earning a cackle from the older man. He wasn’t wrong- the steak was for his sons, but Phil occasionally had his own food. Without another word, Tommy was gone out the door- running into the forest.

Phil heard his phone ring loudly and immediately grabbed it off the counter, answering it as he walked through the house, “Hello~?”   
“It’s me.”   
Phil froze at the familiar voice, a grin crossing his lips, “You’re calling to update me, I presume?”   
“Why else? I have better things to do, and if you weren’t my uncle then I wouldn’t bother doing this.”   
“I’m aware.” Phil walked into the basement, steps creaking under his feet as his tone flattened, “Spill.”   
“He won the trial. Not enough evidence, so he’s scott-free.”   
Phil felt his jaw tighten as he rounded the corner, past Tommy’s chemistry set as he took out his keys. He pushed open the hidden wall to Wilbur’s playroom, walking to the far wall to a locked door- past one of Tommy’s dog cages and Techno’s old baseball bats and play swords. He heard a soft whine from the opposite corner of the room and ignored it, knowing it was just Wilbur’s pet wanting his attention.

“Is that so?” He slipped the key into its lock and opened the door, walking in as his informant continued, “Yep. Gets better too- he’s gonna try and investigate this shit on his own.”   
Phil snorted, chuckling, “Yea. Right. Good luck to him.”   
“What are you going to do about it.”   
The elder walked over to a minifridge in the corner, opening it and grabbing another bag inside. He glanced at the label and smirked, “Keep an eye on him. Let me know if he makes any...improvements.” Phil walked back out, locking the door behind him as he headed back upstairs.   
“That all?”   
“Mhm.”   
There was silence on the other end before the other man hummed, “Right...Whatever you say, I guess.” Phil noted the peace and quiet in the house, and sighed in satisfaction. He was glad they didn’t have any animals.   
“Thanks for the update. Much appreciate-”   
Phil turned the corner and stopped dead in his tracks, frowning as he looked across the hallway into the living room. His second oldest son had his back to him, crouched on the couch with a much smaller body just barely visible under him.

“I’ve gotta go.” Without another word he hung up, shoving his phone in his pocket as he stormed over, “Wilbur fucking Soot!!” He cursed, grabbing the taller man by his arm tightly before pulling him off the couch and away from the smaller male.

The brunette looked stunned for a moment as he stumbled back a bit, before pouting, “Dammit…”   
The smaller of the three let out a whimper and immediately scrambled off the couch, darting to hide behind Phil, who glared sharply at his son, “Wilbur, what the hell were you trying to do?”   
“Having fun!” The blond only frowned deeper, and Wilbur rolled his eyes, huffing, “Look, it’s not fair that I share everything but Techno gets to keep everything to himself!!”   
Phil huffed, “You know how your brother is- especially with his toys. Sharing just isn’t his thing.”   
Wilbur scowled, “Yea, well its stupid.” he snapped, voice harsh as he glared right back at Phil, “That’s it, go to your room!”   
“Wha- i’m fucking 20, you can’t send me to my room!!”   
“My house, my rules- off to your room!”   
He snapped, and Wilbur shot the smallest of the 3 a sharp glare before storming off. Phil took a breath and turned to the shorter male, “C’mon, let’s go make dinner.” The elder wrapped an arm around his shoulders and led him without protest, ignoring the trembling of the other man.

He set the bag on the counter and gestured to it, “You know what to do. Let’s get cooking, little dove~”   
The smaller male eyed the bags of meat warily, biting his lip as he spoke up, “D...do I have to?” Phil raised a brow, looking back at him, “Is that really a question you have to ask, Bad?”   
Bad looked pale, eyeing the label on the new bag. He hated this task. He hated it so much, and he wasn’t in any condition to cook Phil’s special meal right now- he didn’t have the stomach for it.   
“P...phil...please...I don’t…”   
He swallowed thickly, sick in the stomach at the thought of what was in the bag. Phil rolled his eyes, “You’ll get used to it. Now, go on.”   
Knowing he couldn’t talk his way out of this, he took a deep breath and walked over, looking at the label on the bag.

“ **_Jason_ ** .”   
God, he wanted to puke.

=x=

Tommy took out his camera as he approached his project.

Lord, in his eyes it was beautiful- in its own morbid, twisted and fucked up way.

The corpse's skin was decaying and rotting in a bed of flowers, bits of rotted muscle and skin tissue ripped away by random animals, one eye missing and a flower growing in its socket, fungus and maggots feasting on the exposed insides.

The humidity seems to increase the maggots activity and the corpse’s jaw was beginning to be gnawed off, barely hanging there.

The teen lifted his camera, snapping a few pictures before swapping to his tape recorder- quickly stating the date and time before stating the body’s conditions. It was a quick and easy process, and soon enough Tommy found himself heading back home.

As he strolled through the forest, he was alone with his thoughts- only hearing the chirping of birds and noisy buzzing cicada’s.

He was 16 today.

Tomorrow, he’d be 17.

So he had 1 year left till he could follow through tradition.

Well, he could keep doing this for 1 more year.

But in 1 more year, he’d have something new to do- something so much more fun.

Tommy couldn’t wait for that time to come.

=9 months later=

Skeppy stared at the wall of missing posters with tired eyes. He’d spent so many hours wasted here- sleepless nights, stresses, breakdowns, outbursts, all because of the web of mystery on that wall.

Aside from the wall and some file boxes, Bad’s room had remained untouched since that night.

“I really think you should just give it up man…”   
Quackity’s voice rang through the speakers of his computer, “This is basically a cold case by now- theres no leads, no witnesses, nothing- you can’t even prove why you think Schlatt’s disappearance is connected to Bad’s…” He yawned, obviously tired.   
“It is. The point is finding that proof.”   
“Skep…”   
“Q, please, I know i’ve got something here!” Skeppy sat up, head in his hands, “I can’t just give it up...he’s out there, I know it. He’s my best friend, Q- I know that if he was in my place he’d be saying the same fuckin’ thing…”   
His body ached for sleep, bouncing his leg as his eyelids felt like they were being pricked with dozens of needles. He shook his head lazily, rubbing his eyes.   
“If Bad was here, he’d be telling you to get some sleep before you crash.” The other man quiped, “Ya look like shit Skep.” He murmured under his breath, “Soy estudiante de derecho y estoy durmiendo más que tú, hombre, en serio…”

“You know I don’t speak spanish Q.”   
“That’s the point, dumbass.”   
Skeppy let out a weak chuckle and looked at the other male through their facetime call- seeing him toss a pair of heels in his closet, “Look, not all of us are exotic dancers who need to stay constantly fit and hot, okay? Some of us can afford to waste away.”   
Quackity wheezed, laughing loudly, “Ey man, it pays the bills and I like showing off, so it’s a win win.”   
Skeppy hummed acknowledgment, staring at the posters.

A list of interviews was tacked to the wall with the photos of interviewees. People who lived in the large area Bad was in before he disappeared.

He paused.   
“Wait…”   
He stood up as Quackity spoke up, “Skeppy? Whats up?”   
Skeppy charged and grabbed a photo off the interviewee’s section, looking at it closely.

“Oh my god…”   
“What? What’s going on?”   
“It’s him.”   
Quackity was increasingly confused, “Skeppy, what the hell’s going on.”   
“The guy who I saw kidnap Bad!!” He screamed, laughing deliriously, “This is him- I’ll never forget his fucking eyes and this, this is fucking him!!”   
“Skep-”   
Skeppy’s phone battery died and Skeppy winced, “Fuck-”

He scrambled to plug it in and turn it back on. Once he did, a thought occurred to him.

He needed to tell Dream.

=x=

Phil’s phone rang and he picked it up. Before he said a thing, the voice spoke up.   
“Skeppy found out.”   
He tensed, eyes narrowing, “What? How.”   
“He said he recognized your eyes. We need to get rid of him.”   
Phil bit his lip, standing and tapping his foot. He didn’t want to get rid of Skeppy, but…

A wicked smile stretched across his face, chuckling, “No. I want you to grab him and bring him to me, that clear?”   
“What?”   
“You heard me.” Phil snapped, “Do it.” without another word, he hung up and gripped his phone.

He had preparations to make.

=3 months later=

Tommy paced his room, excitement welling in him. Tomorrow was his 18th birthday- tomorrow, he got to pick his first victim.

He already knew who. He’d watched them for years, only exchanged a few words but they were everything to him.

Tomorrow was the day he’d finally have a friend. Someone to keep, and share interests with, and crack jokes and do everything with...It was all so exciting and nerve wreaking for him. The rest of his family could see his excitement, and while Techno disapproved of it he didn’t care enough to voice it.

Tommy was ready. He had everything prepared, and he knew he’d strike with his brother's help tomorrow after school.

14 more hours.

He only needed to wait 14 more hours, and then he’ll finally have a friend.

He could hardly wait.


	2. Photograph's and letters

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just realized I put this down as a single chapter story, I'm so dumb I'm sorry-  
> Anyway, I now have a category in my server dedicated to this fic, so come on in! I'd love to meet y'all and hear feedback, plus you get notifications about new chapters the moment it's updated!  
> https://discord.gg/G648NWcG7q

"Okay, ready!"

Quig looked up from his phone, eyes widening, jaw dropping as he took in the appearance of the other boy, “Wow."

"Wow?"

"Well I mean...it's a look."

"You hate it." he pouted, crossing his arms. Quig rolled his eyes with a loud scoff, "Nonono- I love it. It's a  _ cute _ look, but just sort of...sudden and abrupt. I mean...if you were going for farm-boy look, then it’s perfect Tubs."

Tubbo grinned, "Yea? Well maybe I was!"

"Perfect."

Tubbo looked at himself in the mirror and grinned. Over the weekend, he'd dyed his normally pale blonde hair to a deeper brown. He'd also traded his normal khakis and blouse for light blue overall shorts and a dark green long sleeve shirt- and honestly? He liked the look. It felt refreshing.

"But...feel's like it's missing something." Quig piped up. He walked over to the shorter boy with a skeptical eye, jutting out his lower lip while squinting. Tubbo let out a little snicker at his friend's actions, letting him circle a few times before he finally snapped his fingers, "Your bangs? Super long and constantly covering your eyes."

He looked around Tubbo's dresser top before grabbing something, walking over, "Sit still for me." He stuck out his tongue while the younger waited, moving his bangs out of his eyes and pinning them to the side, leaving only a few locks hanging in his face.

"So?"

Quig stepped back and gestured to the mirror with a satisfied smile, "See for yourself." Tubbo looked in the mirror again and a big smile spread across his face, "Aw! You used my favorite pin, too!" The hair clip he'd used was a little jeweled bee- it was like his good luck charm, "It worked with the outfit. Now, ready to go?"

"Yea!"

The two grabbed their bags and rushed out the door, chatting as they started walking to school.

=x=

The day started off...odd, to say the least.

Disturbing, at most.

First, he'd found a note on his locker that had a photo of him inside. The note was simple, just  _ 'How are you today, bestie?' _ in red pen. He'd figured it had been a prank from Quig at first, but Quig had vehemently denied and plus there wasn't any time he could have left Tubbo's side to have put it there.

The next thing was another polaroid. It was of him, again, but this time he was with Quig and Purpled at lunch- on his homeroom desk, more red pen on the back.

_ 'Take a look at your locker for a cool surprise!' _

What creeped him out so much was the fact that Quig and Purpled's faces were completely scratched out, and he didn't ever seem...aware of the photos being taken.

"Mr. Benjamin?"

The homeroom teacher looked up at Tubbo, raising a brow, "What's goin' on Tubbo?"

Tubbo shifted uncomfortably, walking over to the desk as people piled in the room, "I...I found this on my desk. Did you see anybody come in before the bell rang and put it there?" He handed the photo over with the note and Mr. Benjamin looked at it with a raised brow before reading the note, "No, actually- and that's a bit concerning..." He hummed before handing it back, "Tell you what, if you find another one of these come to me. Or, if I'm not around, go to Mr. Alvaro and tell him you’re concerned someone is stalking you. Sound good?"

"Yes sir..."

Tubbo returned to his seat in silence, quietly observing the picture with concern.

It...scared him. How unaware he was in that photo..?

It made him feel vulnerable.

=x=

After first period, Tubbo went straight to his locker- ready to debunk this. It wasn't a detour, really, he usually left his math and chemistry books in there and grabbed them after homeroom to go straight to Algebra. He quickly put in his combination and opened it, and much to his fear, there laid a small envelope.

He hesitated- did he even want to see what was inside it? What, would the next photo be looking through his bedroom window? The thought of it made him sick.

Before he could chicken out, he stuffed his math and chem book's in his bag and snatched up the letter, wincing as he shut his locker door with more force than he meant to. Tubbo hurried to Math, only really breathing as he sat in his seat. He tuned out the lecture as the bell rang, practically ripping the letter open. Tubbo took out the first item's- multiple different polaroids- and he almost gasped out loud as he saw the picture.

'That- there's no way.' Tubbo thought to himself, suddenly feeling like he was going to hurl. He remembered the exact day that photo was taken.

Last year, summer vacation. He lost a bet to Jack and had to wear a yellow floral sundress, sunhat, and sunglasses to the lakeside camping trip. It was a fun, hilarious gag.

But the only photos taken were from Jack's phone- and that was a group selfie of him, Jack, Quig, and Purpled on the sand- and Quig's disposable waterproof camera.

Yet these...there was one with his back to the camera, sitting in the sand with the sun setting over the lake. 

Another was when Jack, Quig, Purpled picked him up and ran to toss him in the lake- he remembers he dragged Purpled down with him- and he was in the middle of panicking and laughing at the same time. He had shouted something about getting the sundress wet...

There was another photo of him sitting on the dock while chatting with a random camper who was a bit older than him- the guy looked cool, didn't have any friends to hang with so they let him join in, and Tubbo thinks he remembered his name as Ranboo.

He wished he hadn't lost the guy's number- he seemed great.

Quickly, Tubbo grabbed the letter and put all his focus into reading it. It helped that the handwriting was neat and in a straight line. After a few read throughs, no thanks to his dyslexia, he only felt further unsettled by it's contents.

_ 'HIIIII!!! SOOOO Fun fact: It's my birthday today! If you were wondering (of course you were wondering), I turn 18 today :) Today is really special for me, you know. Today, I get a special gift- you'll find out more about that later though! _

_ Do you like the pictures? I only take the best, as a master photographer! You really are a natural shot, even when still being a moving subject, you can't ever seem to make a bad picture- that's really good. _

_ I hope you like the pictures- consider them gifts. We're gonna be best friends, okay? Cuz’ I said so. _

_ See you in Chemistry :) _

_ -T.I.D.' _

Chemistry?

That...that was two periods away.

Tubbo felt like he was going to pass out. He put the letter down with shaky hands, trying to control his breathing as the room began to spin. He could just make an excuse, right? He did actually feel sick, now.

No- both his parents were busy. They wouldn't be able to pick him up anyway.

He'd...he'd had to go.

He just wanted this day to end.

  
  


=x=

  
  


As Tubbo walked to Chemistry, he purposefully stalled. He didn't want to go, really- afraid of what awaited him.

However, after much peptalking, Tubbo finally got the courage to walk in quickly. Willing himself not to look at the others in the room, he sat down and pulled out his chemistry book- setting it down.

"...Hi!"

Tubbo jumped at the loud voice, head whipping to look at his lab partner, "Uh...hi?"

The other boy was around a head taller than him, hair a more goldish blonde than Tubbo's natural pale blonde and eyes a more sky blue with pale skin. His grin practically reached his ears, eyes lit up with excitement. 

"I'm Tommy. Teach switched people around, so now we're lab partners!"

"T...Tubbo. And- yea, cool..." He gulped, giving a half-assed attempt at a smile and a laugh to try easing his nerves, "Sorry if I seem a bit stiff right now it's just...just been a real weird day."

Tommy made a "psshh" noise while shrugging, "Your alright- I'm a bit more excited usual today myself, it's my 18th birthday." Tubbo's heart stuttered, unease creeping up his spine, "O-oh? Well, happy birthday..."

"Thanks!"

Silence settled between them as Tubbo remained on edge, the teacher speaking as he set up his stuff. He felt eyes on him and glanced at the other boy, seeing him watching him with interest. Tubbo shifted uncomfortably, whispering, "Hey uh...Tommy? Would...you stop staring? It's real weir-"

"Did you like the gifts?"

Tubbo's blood ran cold, body freezing, "W...what was that?"

"The photos, did you like them?"

He suddenly felt sick all over again, hands slowly beginning to tremble again, "You..." He slowly looked at the boy next to him, who seemed like he didn't see a single thing wrong with his question.

It felt like he was going to hurl right then out of fear- the person responsible for those photo's was sitting right next to him. Oh god-

Tubbo was quick to raise his hand, speaking so fast it was a wonder he didn't fumble his words, "Mrs. Noll I feel sick I need to go to the nurses office, please!"

The Chemistry teacher looked at him with confusion and surprise before slowly nodding, "Alright-"

Tubbo quickly grabbed his stuff and sped out the classroom, holding his stomach as he headed for the nurse's office.

He was going to fucking vomit.

  
  


=x=

  
  


Tubbo drank the cool water slowly, entire body shaking as he curled up against Quig's side. Mr. Alvaro looked at the photos with worry in his eyes, "And you’re telling me there is nowhere and no way these photographs could have existed? For sure?"

Quig answered for him, "Nope. There's absolutely no way."

Tubbo held the glass cup like it was a lifeline, mind racing as he tried to piece together exactly why this was happening to him. Today was supposed to be a good day, not...whatever hell this was.

"Hm...I'm going to report this and try getting to the bottom of it. I'm really sorry it took me so long to get down here." He reached out and ruffled Tubbo's hair gently, "The dismissal bell will be going off in just a few- are you riding the bus, getting picked up, biking, or walking home?"

Tubbo gulped, chewing his lip, "I normally walk with Quig, but..." Quig winced, seemingly not liking the idea of Tubbo walking home alone, "But I have a dentist appointment, so my mom's picking me up..."

"Can you call your parents?"

Tubbo shook his head, "Busy..."

The older man looked unsure, and Tubbo let out a shaky breath, willing himself to snap out of it. He carefully set the glass down on the table, taking deep, even breaths, "Look I- I'll be fine. It's not that far and I have to stay for my club anyway." He shook his head, "Please just- I just wanna get this day over with- with no more worry."

"Tubbo, you have someone openly  _ stalking _ you!" Quig protested, "Leaving you alone is stupid-"

"I'm not a child, I can handle myself!" He snapped in clear irritation, surprising both of the others. Mr. Alvaro and Quig looked at each other before reluctantly yielding, getting a sigh of relief from Tubbo.

"Thank you..."

  
  


=x=

  
  


His breath was strangled and shaky as he pushed through the agony. He practically dragged himself up the stairs as silently as possible, listening closely for the other's voices. They were outside- front yard, most likely preparing for something…

He strained to reach the doorknob, finally getting a good hold and turning the doorknob. The soft click was a blessing to his ears, pushing the door slowly open. He quickly pulled himself out and forced himself up, shaky on his feet.

He had the mental map, he just needed to make it out.

He quickly limped his way to the backdoor, opening it slowly and quietly. Taking a deep breath of fresh air, he sped towards the forest as fast as he could- not even stopping when he heard them realize he was gone. He kept going, the one goal in mind being to make it to town.

He pushed through the brush, feet numb to twigs and sharp rocks cutting at his skin.

'C'mon c'mon c'mon-'

His lungs burned as he pushed himself, body in agony as he didn't stop- he couldn't stop.

There was a whistle through the air and his breath hitched as a bolt struck the tree beside him. He heard a loud curse and quickly dived to hide.

"Schlatt, come on out~!!" Wilbur's voice echoed a bit and Schlatt struggled a bit to hear him over the sound of his own heartbeat thundering, "Schlatt i'm- I gotta tell ya, I am right fuckin' pissed right now!" He cackled, "Normally i'd love to play this little game of hide and seek- it's cute, really- but today wasn't really the best day, my pretty princess~!!"

Schlatt could hear the fact that Wilbur was speaking through gritted teeth, continuously taking large lungfuls of air to calm himself. He heard the soft noise of the crossbow being reloaded and forced himself on his stomach, crawling under the foliage to avoid detection.

"Schlatt, you know it's Tommy's birthday and i'm supposed to be helping get his present! You know how important that is?"

'No, and I don't give a single shit.' Schlatt thought to himself, crawling further away. The further he got, the more Wilbur's voice faded into the distance.

"No? Well, it's  _ really _ fucking important! Big deal! And guess what? Because of you pulling your little stunt right now, I'm missing because I need to wrangle you back home! So yes, again, i'm downright fucking  _ pissed _ ."

'Asshole...'

Once he felt he was far enough, Schlatt used a tree for support to pull himself up again- panting and shaking. His head was throbbing and the world under his feet felt like it was spinning, legs shaking.

However, knowing Wilbur probably wasn't far behind, Schlatt pushed off the tree and started running again until he reached a familiar marking on a tree.

The road.

He was getting close to the road.

He was getting  _ so  _ close to freedom.

Schlatt let out a shaky, wheeze-like laugh as he allowed himself to slow down a bit- not hearing Wilbur anywhere behind him.

What a mistake that was.

Schlatt took one step past the tree when he heard the soft thwunk and the whistling of the bolt. His breathing and heart stopped, eyes widening as his body instinctually prepared for the unavoidable pain. A second too late, Schlatt screamed as the bolt struck his thigh- collapsing as fresh, warm blood flowed out the wound and dripped onto the soil.

"FUCK!!!" He cried, only receiving loud, cocky laughter in reply, "Damn, you really thought you lost me didn't you, babe?" Schlatt hit his head against the ground, gritting his teeth in pain as Wilbur walked over- taking his sweet time. He stood so his shadow cast over Schlatt, hands on his hips while his crossbow was strapped on his back, "Do you even know…” He lifted his foot only to bring it down on Schlatt’s stomach, knocking the wind out of him with a rough wheeze, “how  _ fucking _ moronic that was on today of all days?”

  
Schlatt groaned in pain, the bloodloss quickly getting it him, “G..go...FUCK yourself, Wil-bitch…” He managed to slur out. Wilbur dug his heel in with an unimpressed look, drinking up a whimper and tisking as he leaned over the wounded man, eyes roaming over him, “I'm disappointed, really. Thought you’d be..." He trailed off, eyes freezing over the bolt in Schlatt’s thigh, “Thought...yo……”

  
Wilbur seemed entranced, mouth open as he stared, and Schlatt snapped, “Thought  _ what _ ?!” The taller continued to stare, before slowly reaching for the bolt. Schlatt began to panic, putting two and two together, “Wil- Wilbur don’t- Wilbur! WIL-” Schlatt was cut off with his own scream as Wilbur grabbed the bolt, muttering under his breath as he subtly jiggled it. A large grin formed on his face and he giggled a bit, burning spreading through Schlatt’s leg as he tried to get free.

His hands scrambled until he grabbed the other’s hair, roughly yanking. Wilbur screamed in pain, snapping out of his trance to rip Schlatt’s hand out of his hair and letting go of the bolt. He growled and dove forward, hands wrapping around Schlatt’s neck, “Do  _ not _ fucking touch me, do you hear that bitch?!” The other man nodded frantically and Wilbur let go roughly, standing as he caught his breath. He looked around, as if bewildered by what was happening before rubbing his eyes and shaking his head- pacing a bit. He rubbed his face and ran his hands through his hair, panting as he whispered to himself, “Shut up. Shut the fuck up I need him- n...need him fucking alive I can’t…fucking shit!” He shouted, voice cracking a bit. Using both hands, he pushed his bangs back and inhaled deeply, counting under his breath before exhaling. He looked back to Schlatt, giving him a tired smile, "Looks like you need me to carry you, huh? How sad."

"F...fuck you!" Schlatt hissed, only to cry out in pain as he was grabbed by his arm and pulled towards Wil, quickly being hoisted over his shoulder- trembling as he went limp.

"Let’s get you home before you bleed to death, hm?" Wilbur turned back in the direction of the house, trekking through the thick forest as Schlatt came in and out of consciousness.

Bad was the one waiting at the door, worry and fear clear on his face the moment he saw them.

"Bad, get the basement ready."

"W-what did you do?!"

Wilbur rolled his eyes, playfully brushing past the other victim as he headed to the basement, "Crossbow bolt to the thigh..." Bad tensed, blurting out his concern, "Wilbur- that can kill him! If it hit an artery he could bleed out in minutes!"

Wilbur stiffened, a deep frown forming on his face, "He's taken worse from me before, so he'll be fine if you hurry it the fuck up!" He snapped suddenly, temperamental flare making Bad flinch back, "Now, are you going to zip that pretty mouth of yours and quit bitching, or are you going to fucking  _ make  _ me shut you up?" Bad took a step back, keeping quiet as he ducked his head. Talking this as an affirmative, Wilbur turned without another word and headed to the basement- clearly still steaming.

Reluctantly, Bad followed close behind- silently obedient as always.

  
  


=x=

  
  


Tubbo had lied.

He didn't want to walk home alone- not with the knowledge that he was more than likely being stalked.

So instead, he waited for his dad to pick him up on his way home from work. After most of the clubs left, the school felt...dead. It was an oddly unsettling site- not a single soul inside or outside the building except him...

Tubbo heard the school door's click open and he looked over- stomach twisting as he realized who was standing there. Tommy looked over to him and grinned, walking over quickly, "What's wrong, Tubbo?"

The brunette shook his head, backing away as the other teen approached, tone taunting, "You never did answer my question..."

"G-get away..."

Tommy’s face suddenly twisted in confusion, "Why? I have-"

Tubbo jumped as he heard a loud car honk, looking to the street to see a family van parked there. The car window rolled down, a man with paler blonde hair and green eyes smiling kindly at them peeking his head out. 

"Hey Dad!!" Tubbo watched in disbelief as Tommy seemingly forgot him, running to the car and opening the back to toss his book bag in.

"I..."

Tubbo's eyes met the mans’, wide and confused. The mans’ smile only widened, "Tubbo! Aren't you gonna join us?"

His body goes cold and he starts backing up, freaked out about how this man knew his name, "W...what?"

Tubbo jumped as he backed right up into someone, "He was asking if you were joining us." A flat, monotone voice responded. Before he can react, a strong pair of arms wrap around his waist and he immediately starts thrashing. Adrenaline immediately starts pumping as he struggles and kicks, a loud plinking noise heard as something falls to the ground. He inhales, about to scream only for it to be muffled by the cloth Tommy shoves over his mouth and nose. His eyes are wide and panicked as he's squished, protests being shushed by Tommy as they grow quieter, darkness edging his vision as he loses consciousness.

After a few seconds, Tommy slowly removes the cloth- the smaller boy completely out, "Alright Tech, you can loosen."

As if on cue, Techno relaxes his hold and straightens up, changing Tubbo's position in his arms as they hurried to the van. Phil grinned, "Tie his wrists, put him in the front seat. You two in the back."

Tommy whined, “But I wanna hold him-”

  
“You're not allowed to have your present this early bud~” Phil sang as Techno grabbed rope from the floor of the car and tied Tubbo’s wrists behind his back. He brought the smaller to the front seat- taking extra care to position him comfortably- before clipping on the seatbelt.

He climbed in the back with Tommy, silent as always as Phil started pulling out.

  
Then, Tommy noticed, “Wha- Wait where's Wilbur?!”

  
“His pet got out again, so he needed to stay behind- i’m sorry bud…”

  
“Again?!” Tommy squawked, frowning, “What the hell?!”   
“I don’t understand why he doesn’t just break Schlatt’s legs. It’d be infinitely easier.” Techno piped up and Phil tisked, shaking his head, “Not all pets can be as obedient as Bad, Techno. Skeppy still tries to break out of the attic to this day! Wil just likes it when they run.”

  
Techno grumbled, “He’s just a sadist.” Phil looked at his eldest son in the rearview mirror, “Tech, we all have preferences and you know this- you shouldn’t criticize your brother.”

  
The eldest huffed, resting his forehead against the window without retorting again.

  
The rest of the car ride home was silent, with Techno watching out the window and Tommy on his phone.

They drove out of town onto the dirt road, following it into the country before pulling off into a hidden path into the woods. Soon, it opened up into fields again with a small country home and barn, driving by rickety wood fences until finally pulling into a car shed. Pulling into park, Tommy was the first out, followed by Techno as he walked to the house. Phil was last, undoing his belt, getting out and walking to the passenger side. He opened the door and leaned in, undoing Tubbo’s car seat and pushing his long bangs out of his eyes. He squinted as he inspected the boy, moving his head side to the side.

There was something...familiar about him that Phil couldn’t quite place. Something that disturbed him.

  
Unable to figure it out, he shrugged it off and scooped the boy into his arms, stepping out of the car. He shut the door with his hip and headed to the house, hearing loud bickering from inside. He walked in to Tommy standing over Wilbur on the couch and Techno standing to the side, unamused as always.

  
“You’re drunk?!” whined the golden blonde, receiving a small, lazy snicker from the brunette on the couch, “Yeeppp…”

  
“It’s my  _ birthday _ , Wil! What the actual fuck!” Wilbur only responded with a shrug, slowly sitting up. Upon seeing Phil with Tubbo, he lit up and stood, “Oh! Ya got ‘em!” He gave a dopey grin, walking over with only a slight stumble, “Dad- daddy lemme look-”

  
Phil rolled his eyes, chuckling at Wilbur’s antics and letting Wilbur look at the knocked out teen. Wilbur gawked before giggling, “Ayyyy, my lil’ brother’s got taste!!” He slurred, only to yelp as Tommy grabbed his collar and pulled him away roughly. He narrowed his eyes at his older brother, “Back. Off.”

  
Wilbur rolled his eyes, raising his hands in defense, “Fuckin’ chill Toms, ‘m just sayin’ he’s cute okay? Harmless…” He grumbled in slight annoyance, “He’s aaaalllll yours-”

  
“He’s not- thats not why-!” Tommy let out a frustrated noise before snapping as Wilbur plopped back on the couch, “Go fuck your goddamn voodoo doll, Wil! Ugh!” He stormed off and Techno watched after him, seemingly conflicted. Phil sighed, “What am I gonna do with that one…Wil-”   
“Yea yea,” Wilbur grabbed a half empty bottle of vodka from on top of the table, taking a swig as he waved Phil off. He sighed and laid back, bringing his forearm over his eyes, “Schlatt’s back in the basement. Techno your crossbow is back in your room.”

  
“I’m inclined to think you’re lying, since that’d be the first time you’ve actually willingly returned one of my weapons.” Techno snarked, crossing his arms. Wilbur huffed and flicked him off, earning an eye roll from his older brother. Tisking, Phil shook his head and began walking out of the room, “I’ll be setting up Tommy’s gift in his room, so hopefully he isn’t in there.”

  
The eldest looked around before narrowing his eyes on Wilbur, “Wil, where’s my angel?”

  
“Songbird’s in the basement fixin’ up Schlatt, Hercules. Now fuck off, ‘ve gotta headache.”

  
Techno growled under his breath before walking off, heading to the basement without protest. He opened the door and headed downstairs, the wooden stairs under his feet creaking loudly from his weight. Bad’s voice was soft as he talked to Schlatt, and as Techno turned the corner he could see Schlatt laying on a couch with one leg resting in Bad’s lap, the other on the floor chained to a bar under the couch.

  
“I can’t believe he shot you with a bolt- goodness, at this rate you’ll need another blood transfusion…” Bad’s eyebrows were knitted together as his eyes focused on the entrance wound, pinching the skin together as more blood dripped out while he stitched. His longish black hair was pulled back into a messy ponytail, hands steady as possible while he worked. Schlatt let out a whine of pain, face twisted in agony as beads of sweat ran down his forehead, “God- Fffff-” he gritted his teeth, “Ca- can I swear?”

  
Bad snorted, a small smile tugging at his lips as he briefly glanced at Schlatt, “Right now i’ll allow it.”

  
“Good. Because this holy shit this fucking hurts like a goddamn  _ bitch _ !” He shouted before biting his knuckle in pain. Unable to contain himself, Bad let out a sputtered laugh that he quickly covered up- clearly amused by the outburst. Schlatt peeked at him before letting out a weak, shaky chuckle. Techno smiled a bit, shaking his head. Schlatt was...amusing to say the least. He was an annoyed, dickish bastard, but he never failed to put a smile on Bad’s face. As much as he wanted to bash his skull in most of the time, he amused Bad and that was the only thing Techno valued him for.

Like a Jester.

  
He walked over, “Angel?”

  
Bad and Schlatt both jumped and Bad’s face reddened as Schlatt frowned. Bad cleared his throat, looking back to the wound and focusing again, “Techno...welcome home…”

  
“Mhm...so, what did Wilbur do this time?”

  
“Crossbow bolt through the thigh. He...he could’ve hit an artery.”

  
“Hm.” Techno stood in silence before looking around the room. Without the hidden wall open, it looked like a regular basement- with a tv, couch, and workout room, “So, where’d he hide my crossbow this time?”

  
Bad thought for a second before responding, “I... _ think _ it’s in the barn? He left with it on his back, saying he was gonna polish it or something, and then came back without it.”

  
“Knew he was lying…” He walked over, leaning down and kissing Bad’s head. Schlatt looked away, his heart twisting and chest burning as he kept his lips sealed, “Did he touch you?”

  
“No.” Bad answered. Techno’s possessive paranoia was a constant in this hell, but Bad was thankful that he took his word. The eldest was always wary of leaving the noirette alone with his younger brother, as Wilbur had a track-record of not keeping his hands to himself- so in the end he was justified in his questioning.

“Did he hurt you in any way?”

  
“He threatened me, but that was it.”

  
Techno hummed before standing straight, sending Schlatt a warning glance as Schlatt snapped at, “Relax wreck-it-Ralph, i’m not gonna touch your precious barbie doll.” Bad glanced at the older man and Schlatt grimace, “No offense, Bad.”

  
“None taken, it’s fine…”

  
Techno growled under his breath, hands balling into fists before turning away, “I’ll be back in a bit, I’m gonna find my crossbow.”

  
“Alright. I’ll be up in a bit- Oh, and if you see Phil can you tell him I hid Tommy’s cake in the pantry? I uh...didn’t want Wil to get a hold of it. I’ll ice it when I get upstairs.”

  
“Got it.”

  
Without another word, Techno walked back upstairs, leaving Bad to finish fixing Schlatt’s leg. Once the basement door shut, the brunette spoke up again.

  
“...I bet you feel like ya won the lottery. Tech’s seriously the only tolerable one- besides his weird obsession with you…”

  
“If you think that means I like it here Schlatt, you're very wrong.”

  
“‘Course not. I’m just saying…”

  
Bad cut and tied the end of the stitch before grabbing the bandages, “Lift.” Schlatt lifted his leg with a groan and Bad quickly wrapped the leg with bandages. When he finished, Bad moved the leg off his lap slowly and stood, grabbing the bloody bolt and putting it in the sink of Tommy’s chemistry area. He washed his hands quickly before wiping them on his clothes. He walked over to Schlatt and gathered the stuff before glancing at him.

  
“Are you jealous?” Bad asked slyly, “Of you? Hell no.”

  
“Language.”   
Schlatt snorted and Bad continued, “So you’re jealous of Techno.” He packed the medical supplies away, stating it like fact. Schlatt didn’t answer and Bad snickered, the spirits in the room lifting a bit. He walked over, pecking Schlatt’s cheek and Schlatt rolled his eyes, “I’d be blushing if I wasn’t suffering blood loss.” he joked, and Bad laughed softly, “Get some rest, i’m going up to ice Tommy’s cake.”

  
“Yea yea…”

  
Without protest, Schlatt adjusted to lay down and Bad went up quickly, opening the basement door before shutting it with a soft click.


	3. Birthday Surprises

There was a knock on the door as they were preparing, and after peeking through the window Phil knew it was safe to let Bad answer, “Bad, get the door please!” He called with a grin.

  
The noirette quickly opened the front door and gave a pleasant- yet shaky and nervous- smile at the 2 standing there.

  
“Dream, Sapnap! How nice to see you two…”   
The blonde pushed up his mask and ruffled Bad’s hair as he walked past, “Same here, Bad.” He hummed, walking in and Wilbur spotted them from the couch, “Oh  _ great _ , it’s the piss baby and the fuck boy!” He groaned. Sapnap pulled Bad into a quick hug before rolling his eyes, sneering at the brunette as he shot back, “Oh  _ great _ , it’s the alcoholic! How’s the liver?”

  
“Fine, thank you.”

  
“I’m sure.”

  
“Aw what the fuck?!” Tommy cried as he spotted the pair, frowning deeply, “Wha- Why the fuck are you two here?!”   
Dream grinned maliciously, “Uncle Phil invited us. How’s my favorite little bitch boy of a cousin?” He cooed, walking over and reaching to ruffle Tommy’s hair only to get his hand swatted away as Tommy made an indignant noise, “Fuck you!! Dad!!” He turned to the head of house, eyes boring into him. Phil tensed, looking away with a shaky chuckle, “Dream’s your cousin and as this is your eighteenth birthday, it’s important he’s here. Same with Sapnap- he’s practically family too.”

  
“They’re assholes!”

  
“Tommy.” Phil warned, still not looking at the boy as he stared daggers into him. After a moment, Tommy growled under his breath, going back to playing with his game. With that, the elder let out a soft sigh and looked back to watching them, giving an apologetic look to Dream and Sapnap.

  
It was after dinner, and now it was just them playing party games and chatting while Bad put on the cake’s finishing touches. Tommy and Techno were playing mario kart in the living room, Wilbur was laying on the couch watching with boredom, Phil was leaning against the couch’s side, and with their arrival Dream and Sapnap took their own seats on the floor.

Tommy’s phone lit up, ringing with a familiar tune, and he stood up quickly. Picking it up, he excused himself and ran out to the porch as Dream took his place. If Bad had been looking at it as anybody else, this would have been seen as any other family gathering for a birthday. Bad’s hands shook slightly, trying his best to keep a smile as he went back to the kitchen, picked up the icing tube, and began finishing up the icing. He remembered Phil’s exact instructions- 3 layer cake with the center layer being vanilla and the top and bottom being chocolate. White frosting, red decorations, and a skull on top…   
His personal recipe with Phil’s instructions.

Looking at the cake, he could only pray it tasted as good as it looked.

  
He heard Tommy come back inside, tensing at the slam of the front door followed by a brief argument between him and Dream. He heard Phil put a quick end to it, followed by swift footsteps to the kitchen. Tommy stormed into the kitchen and grabbed a list off the counter, scratching something off with glassy eyes and a reddened face before storming off again with the list in hand. He watches as Techno follows behind closely afterward, and while his instincts say to follow the teen, he simply stays frozen in place, icing the cake.

  
  


=x=

  
  


Techno tentatively followed his little brother in silence, watching him turn into the morning room. He peeked in, seeing the teen curled in a ball on the couch, grumbling to himself and sniffling. Taking a deep breath, he takes a step in and leans on the doorway.

  
“Toms? You good?”   
The teen sat up in surprise, looking at him before quickly rubbing tears from his eyes and sniffling, “‘m fine...Big man ‘n shit…”

  
“Tommy…”

  
Tommy huffs before holding out a notepad. The older grabs it, looking it over to see a list of names. Freshly crossed out is Eret, Cap, and the twins, and Techno can’t help feel disappointed as well. Those were the only family members that were somewhat manageable. Eret and the twins were Tommy’s cousins, and Cap was Phil’s brother- all of them in the same habits, as they  _ were  _ family. 

“Ah...you were looking forward to them coming, weren’t you?”

  
“Just...just a little.” Techno thinks he hears Tommy mutter under his breath about mostly being excited for Corpse and Val, but he doesn’t acknowledge it, focusing on what he thinks is the main problem, “And I’m guessing you didn’t want Dream or Sapnap.”   
“Fuck no! They’re assholes!”

  
Techno snorted, but he couldn’t help but agree. Dream and Sapnap always had it out for Tommy, and when they visited as kids the youngest was always the subject of their “jokes”. Especially after Wilbur and Techno had both taught them what happened when they’d fuck with them. Techno and Wilbur were far more physical than Tommy, with both of them being more bite than bark, but Tommy had always been more bark than bite.

  
That was, unless, he had his chemistry set on him.  _ Then _ he was more bite than bark.

Techno didn’t know what to say though. Comfort wasn’t his strong suit, and he wasn’t used to having to talk to the other, so he attempted to be comedic, “Well, at least you have cake, right?”

  
Tommy didn’t laugh.

There was an awkward silence between them, until finally Tommy spoke up. His voice was soft, and he didn’t look at Techno at all.   
“Tech, why doesn’t Dad ever look me in the eyes?”

  
There's a single moment where Techno’s heart stops, a lump forming in his throat as he mills over exactly what the hell he was supposed to say.

  
What  _ could  _ he say? He knew the answer but- dammit...he’d always figured that was something Tommy was oblivious to or just ignored.

  
“I…”   
He hesitates, biting his lip as he tries to think of a bullshit answer. Then Tommy speaks again, “It’s why you wear contacts, isn’t it? And why you dyed your hair pink.” Techno’s leg bounces nervously, mouth suddenly dry, “Tommy that- it doesn’t-”

  
“Techno, Tommy?”

  
The atmosphere is broken as the two look over to the door, seeing Bad standing there nervously, “The ah...cake’s ready. Everybody is gathering.” Techno almost sighs in relief, and just like that the previous question is brushed off, “Right, c’mon Toms.”

  
The youngest doesn’t say anything, simply standing up and brushing past the noirette as Bad watched him walk off with pure concern in his eyes, “Is...he okay?”

  
“He’s fine,” Techno wrapped an arm around Bad’s waist, leaning down and kissing his forehead, “Just a bit pissed.”

  
He looks unconvinced, but just nods obediently, talking softly, “Right...okay…”

=x=

There’s a tension in the room as they sing happy birthday before cutting the cake. They all give Tommy a gift of sorts.

  
Dream and Sapnap are surprisingly considerate of Tommy’s likes; he gets more camera film, colored ink cartridges for his printer, and a steam gift card worth 50 dollar’s. Wilbur’s gift is something that gets Tommy a bit more excited. Red phosphorus, straight from the black market- shit was expensive, but despite his lack of a job, Wil was high on cash. Tommy immediately knew what he could make using it.

Techno gets Tommy more blank cassette tapes for Tommy to record on- something he did desperately need. Phil gets him more lab equipment and fresh, new safety gear to wear during his experiments. He also gets gifts that were sent by those who couldn’t come to the party.

  
From Eret is 20 dollars, a birthday card, a hunting knife, and a racoon pelt.

  
From Cap and X33n is a birthday card, and in the box is a new camera.

  
From the twins, Corpse and Val, is a beautifully crafted machete and a small rabbit doll with a skull mask.

  
And yet, despite how amazing these things are, Tommy can’t wait for his final gift. He  _ would _ have gotten it by now but unfortunately Phil had locked his room to make sure Tubbo stayed put, so only Phil had the key and…   
“Tommy, I need to take care of one of the pets first, okay?”

  
“But-”

  
“No buts,” Phil scolded, cutting another slice of cake and putting it delicately on a paper plate, “You behave for just a few more minutes while I do this, and then you get your final present. Got it?”

  
Tommy pouts, huffing and pouting as he crosses his arms, grumbling a stubborn “fine…”. Phil hummed, grabbing the plate and a bottle of water before walking out the kitchen. For a moment, he loudly starts up the stairs before silently creeping back down and to the backdoor. He opens it quietly and shuts it gently, heading to the barn, tucking the water bottle under his arm as he unhooks his keyring from his belt loop.

  
Opening the barn door makes it creak eerily, and there’s an immediate smell of musk and rot that hits him. It’s not a smell he isn’t used to though, and leisurely he starts carefully climbing up the ladder to the loft until he stands on the ledge in front of the padlocked door to the hayloft. That door hadn’t used to be there, but Phil needed somewhere to let Wilbur... _ express _ himself before they had made up the playroom. After it was made, the hayloft was vacant and later Phil needed somewhere to put his newest noisy pet where he wouldn’t be heard, and this just happened to be the most convenient.

  
He inserted the key into the padlock, turning it with a click, letting it drop to the ground, and pushed the door open. Laying on the ground with his back to Phil, illuminated only by the bits of moonlight shining through planks of wood hammered over a smashed window, was Skeppy.

  
As far as Wilbur, Tommy, or Techno knew, Skeppy was in the attic. It was where they had previously kept him, until after one too many close calls with Bad offhandedly mentioning the noise in the attic, Phil decided to move him without the boys knowing.

  
The loft area still had the lingering metallic smell of blood as well as remains of the blood from Wil’s previous victims staining the boards, with a pile of straw with a blanket on it to act as a bed in the corner.

  
“Bluejay, I’ve got you a treat~” He teased, only to frown as the man’s back remained on him, letting out a disgruntled noise of acknowledgement. Phil rolled his eyes, “It’s cake. A pretty big slice, too. And because i’m feeling generous tonight and because you’ve been good, I got you a bottle of clean water.” Phil stated plainly, tone more sarcastic this time with slight irritation. The noirette spoke, his voice hoarse from screaming, “It’s probably poisoned with something vomit inducing, knowing you…”

  
The blond rolled his eyes, setting the paper plate and water bottle on the floor before stepping back, “Nope. Just regular layered birthday cake, vanilla and chocolate. White and red frosting.” He thought before adding, “What if I told you Bad made it, hm?”

  
Phil almost smirked as he saw Skeppy visibly tense. He watched as he hesitantly sat up and turned, cautiously glancing between Phil and the cake before reaching out and snatching the water bottle as well as pulling the plate towards him.

There was a slight silence as Skeppy hastily opened the water, quickly chugging the water so fast that he starts coughing as he chokes. Phil only watches in amusement as he coughs into a dirty hoodie sleeve, taking deep breaths as he peeks at the cake.   
“W-what...no fork?” He snarks, and Phil looks at him with zero amusement, “Last time I gave you a fork, you jumped on my back and nearly stabbed me with it. I’m not taking a chance. Use your hands and just be grateful, Bluejay.”

  
He flinches at the bite in Phil’s voice before huffing, resigning himself to using his hands as he breaks off a piece. Popping it in his mouth, the sweetness of the cake quickly flows over his taste buds, and there’s a pit in his stomach as nostalgia hits him, swallowing quickly before taking another larger bite.   
His eyesight gets blurry, tears slipping down his face as starts to shake.

  
Bad’s cooking was something he missed almost as much as his mom’s cooking. Tasting this was like torture that he couldn’t stop putting through himself. He mourned the days where he didn’t appreciate the sight of Bad in his hoodie by the stove in the morning, ready with avocado salad in the fridge and pain pills on the counter to help with his hangover. He missed hearing him hum a tune he’d make up, he missed waking up to the smell of bacon, eggs, and chocolate pancakes wafting into the room and walking downstairs to the brightest smile he could imagine.

  
Before he and Bad moved in together, Skeppy was never a morning person. He’d whine and moan when Bad would come into his room and open the curtains to shine daylight on his face. He never appreciated it all before.

  
Now, he would give anything to experience it all and actually be thankful for it this time.

As he watched the young man break into pieces on the floor, immense satisfaction filled Phil, smiling with fake sympathy, “Aww...You miss him, don’t you, Bluejay? Hurts, doesn’t it?” He felt a dark chuckle bubbling up inside him, voice becoming more sinister, “Oh who gives a shit. You really think you have the right to be crying? After it’s your fault he’s here in the first place?” He hisses. Skeppy doesn’t respond, still quietly sobbing and trembling in front of him.

  
With a roll of his eyes, Phil scoffs, “A pathetic brat, a terrible friend, and a disobedient pet. That’s all you are.”

  
He knows his words are reaching Skeppy even with no acknowledgement, and with a chuckle, Phil turns heel to the door, “However...I suppose if you prove you can be obedient...I’ll let you see him.” He grabs the padlock again, walking out and adding tauntingly with a laugh, “Well, that is, if he even  _ wants _ to see you. He’s doing perfectly well without you, after all~”

  
With that, he slams the door shut and clips on the padlock, securing it. With a satisfied smile, Phil headed down the ladder and back to the house, Skeppy’s cries fresh in mind.   
  


=x=

  
  


Tommy ran upstairs ahead of Phil, whining for him to hurry as he went. Phil rolled his eyes, following his son upstairs and to his bedroom room door, eyeing the boy beside him as he underlocks the door.

  
Pushing it open, Phil hummed, “Happy birthday Toms. Have fun~” He walked off and Tommy quickly sped in, slamming and locking the door behind him. He looked at his bed and immediately his stomach twisted, internally groaning in irritation as he realized Wilbur wasn’t the only one who seemed to misunderstand his intentions with Tubbo.   
He walked over, quickly untying the ropes tying the smaller’s wrists to his bed and discarding it with an eye roll. Seriously, how hard was it to get across that all he wanted was a friend? You could still admire someone's looks without being attracted to them, and while he thought that would’ve been clear apparently it wasn’t to two of his family members.

Tommy heard a groan and his eyes lit up, looking to see the brunette’s eyes fluttering open.   
  
As Tubbo came to, he winced at the light and slowly sat up. He groaned, rubbing his eyes.   
Had it all been a nightmare? Was he fine?   
Recalling the events, his blood drained as he suddenly recognized that the room wasn’t his.

  
“You're awake!” He turned his head and screamed shrilly, recognizing Tommy instantly as he scrambled away, “N-no!! Get the fuck away from me, stay the fuck away!!!” He desperately tried to get away, tears quickly welling in his eyes as he really began to process his situation. Tommy’s eyes filled with confusion, suddenly looking lost by the other’s reaction before his eyes widened, “Stop-!” He reacted with lightning quick reflexes, grabbing Tubbo’s wrist and pulling him towards him just before he fell off the bed, “You’ll hurt yourself for fuck’s sake!” He scolded.

  
Tubbo squirmed anyway, hitting and trying to shove the other boy away wordlessly in pure panic. Reluctantly, Tommy grabbed his other wrist, “W-why are you acting like this?! We’re friends, right? Why are you fuckin’ screamin’ n’ shit?!” He cried, voice showing genuine confusion. At that, Tubbo suddenly froze, looking at the other boy, “Wha...what?”   
Tommy gave a relieved sigh, a shaky smile stretching across his lips, “Friends. We’re friends, that's why you're here.” His eyes lit up as Tubbo only looked more fearful, “T...the fu-”

  
“Well…” Tommy continued, pulling Tubbo closer and throwing his arms around the horrified boy as he did so, “We were friends before, but now we’re best friends! Fuckin’ cool, right?!” He spoke with innocent excitement, hugging Tubbo tightly.   
Meanwhile, Tubbo felt nothing but fear and anxiety, and only one thought crossed his mind.

  
‘I’m so fucked.’

  
  


=x=

  
  


“Fuck you guys and fuck your shitty department!! Malditos cerdos inútiles, no pueden hacer otra cosa que engordar y sentarse en sus traseros todo el día!!” Quackity slammed the door to the police station behind him as he cursed out the officers. He stormed towards his car and opened it, climbing in the driver's seat and slamming it shut.

  
He released a scream of frustration as he ripped off his beanie, threading his fingers in his hair and pulling at it. 2 months. Skeppy had been missing for two fucking months since he had a breakthrough, and since then Quackity had scrapped up money to buy that house of his, move in, go through each and every one of his documents, and try and decipher where the fuck his friend had disappeared to.

  
So far, all Quackity knew was small country towns were hell to live in, he hadn’t figured out a single thing, the police were the least helpful mother fuckers in the world, and he was goddamn stressed to hell. The only lead he had was a photo Skeppy tacked up on the wall of Bad’s old room of some random farm dude, and the fact that a boy from a school in town had recently disappeared. He had put up posters everywhere notifying people to contact him if they knew anything about Schlatt, Bad, Skeppy, or even the boy’s disappearance. It was the only thing he could do at that point, and he felt helpless because of it.

  
He was worried sick for his friends- sure he was always a bit nosy and loved to annoy the shit out of them, but they were still his friends. Skeppy had a habit of getting ahead of himself, and at this point Quackity was terrified he was actually dead.

The shrill ringing of his phone got Quackity’s attention and he grabbed it, begrudgingly checking the name. He eye’d the unknown number suspiciously, before taking a deep breath and answering, “Quackity speaking. Who is this?”

  
“I saw your poster. I have some info about the boy, Tubbo. I also have some friends who have info on the others too.”

  
Quackity felt like the air was punched out of him. The fucking timing, what the hell…

“Wait- Really?”

  
“Yes. The police aren’t taking it seriously, so I'm taking my chances with you. But…” Quackity deflated. Of course there was a “but”, there was always a fucking “but”.   
“But…?”

  
“But we can’t talk about it over the phone. I want us to meet up.”

  
Quackity tensed, suddenly anxious. This was insanely suspicious- who the hell even was this guy? Could he trust him?

  
“Could I at least get your name first?”

  
“You can get my last name for now. Alvaro. Tomorrow at two pm, meet me in Manifold park. Got it?”

  
“How can I trust you?”   
Quackity spoke quickly, and he swore he heard the other man snort, “You’ll just have to if you want information.” With that, he hung up, leaving Quackity speechless. He put down his phone, laid back, and stared silently at the roof of his car, thinking.

With a deep sigh, he let out a humorless laugh, coming to his decision.

"Well, I have nothing left to lose anyway."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Admit it, how many of y'all started playing hayloft by mother mother in your heads during the Phil and Skeppy bit?


	4. Bittersweet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got a sudden blast of motivation for this story and was able to write this all in one go! The supportive comments are so nice, thank you all so much and im happy you're all enjoying!
> 
> I have a category in my server dedicated to this fic, so come on in! I'd love to meet y'all and hear feedback, plus you get notifications about new chapters the moment it's updated!  
> https://discord.gg/G648NWcG7q

Bad’s eyes fluttered open as he woke up, the bright red numbers on the alarm clock telling him it was time to get up. Part of him wanted to stay in bed- it was warm, comfy, and sleep usually let him forget about his situation.

  
But another part of him wanted to get up and out of the room. 6 am meant that everybody else was asleep and he could enact his morning ritual in peace.

He rolled out of bed with a yawn, carefully creeping through the bedroom to grab his hoodie and shorts, slipping out of the oversized shirt Techno leant him for sleeping and into his day clothes. His eyes adjusted to the dark of the room quickly as he grabbed his red hair tie and pulled his hair back in a small, messy ponytail. Finally, he grabbed a tiny notebook and pencil from the dresser top before quietly making his way out of the room, until he heard a soft ding that made him flinch. He cast a quick glance at Techno to make sure the older man was still fast asleep, letting out a sigh of relief to see his back still turned and breathing rhythmically, before his eyes met the glowing screen on the nightstand.

  
Techno had left his phone on and out in the open last night. His heart leapt in his throat at the realization, eyes wide as they fixated on the phone. He...he could call for help. Freedom was inches away from him, and he could take it.

He could…   
  


  
_ He trembled, eyes fixated in horror at the scene before him. Phil was angrier than he’d ever seen him before, and by the look on Techno’s face even he was on edge. _ _   
_ _ “I thought you were smarter than this Scott, I really, really fucking did!!” He snarled, and Bad held back a scream at the sickening noise of bone’s breaking and the blood curdling shriek that came after. Phil glared sharply at him and Schlatt, and as Bad met his eyes there was a sickening sense of fear that shot through him that he’d never forget, “Let this be a fucking lesson to you two not the pull the same bullshit little Sparrow here has! Because this marks the end of me playing Mr-fucking-nice!!! If I catch either of you doing the same shit as him- sneak a phone, lie, run,  _ **_anything_ ** _ \- and  _ **_I_ ** _ have to be the one to deal with you, I will not be as merciful as my boys!” He grabbed the other by his hair, shotgun in hand pointing at the pets, “We don’t have time. Wilbur, get Schlatt and Bad in the backroom and then lock down the playroom. Techno, make sure everything is hidden. Tommy, make sure any blood on the carpet is covered up. Don’t try to fucking clean it, if you have to then fuckin dump a glass of red wine to cover it up and make it look like an accidental spill. Now.” Bad watched in horror as Phil dragged the half conscious, pleading man out of the family room and out the porch, not registering the others moving and scrambling. _ _   
_ _ He felt numb with fear, unable to process what was happening even after he was left alone in the room by the others, Wilbur dragged off an in-shock Schlatt. _ _   
_ _ All his eyes remained on was the item Phil had left behind. A small phone with a shattered screen, smeared with blood. _

_ Then, Wilbur grabbed him by his arm and pulled him to his feet, dragging him to the basement door, and the loud bang of a shotgun firing ringing in his ears just before he’s sent stumbling into Schlatt’s arms while the door slams and locks behind them. _

  
  


No.

  
He quickly walks out the room as his eyes sting with tears, shutting the door with a soft click and shaking this head. He knew the consequences if he was found out, and if he was found out then he knew Phil would just make him  _ wish _ he was dead.

  
As Bad went through the hallway he opened the window curtains, letting the light of sunrise shine through the windows before heading down the stairs, careful to be quiet as he headed to the kitchen. Opening his notebook, he looked over the list for the day. He’d been there long enough to know everybody's patterns on weekdays and weekends. Between him and Schlatt, he was the only one allowed free roam from 5 am to 10 pm, and chores usually occupied his day and kept his mind from thinking too much. Cooking, cleaning, laundry, trash…

  
Entering the kitchen, he set the notebook on the counter and started getting breakfast ready while he mentally went over the day.

  
It was Saturday. He’d make breakfast, Techno and Phil would be up at 8, then Tommy at 8:30. They’d be down and will grab breakfast at 9, then at 9:30 they would go take care of the cows. He’d go up and make the bedrooms, then go back down at 10:30 to most-likely see Wilbur eating on the couch, clean up the kitchen, at 12 Phil has a doctors appointment.

He’d make lunch for the others, 1 is when Techno is going to the store, Tommy would probably be spending time talking to the newest victim all day, Wilbur is probably gonna be home all day so it would be best to avoid the living room, dinner was to be made at 5…

If the universe was on his side, then hopefully today would go smoothly.

As always, he could only hope.

  
  


=x=   
  


  
Talking was...unsuccessful to say the least.

Since he’d woken up, Tubbo hadn’t made a peep- all but refusing to talk- and Tommy didn’t understand why. He thought friends were supposed to talk about all sorts of things and be happy around each other- not... _ this.  _ All Tubbo had done was curl up against the headboard and just glare at him.

  
“Are you really not gonna say  _ anything? _ ” He questioned with a pout, and the only response he got was a small shift. Tommy thought for a second, eyeing the other boy until he suddenly got an idea, “Oh! Wait- you must be all pissy because your hungry huh? That’s fine- I’ll go get you some food-!” He stood up quickly and ran out before Tubbo could respond.

As Tommy ran downstairs, he found Bad washing the last of the knives. He knew at this point Phil had already left and so had Techno, so he quickly grabbed the plate meant for him as well as the extra one and headed back upstairs. He opened the door to his room, shutting it with his foot afterward, “‘Kay, got food!” He crawled on his bed and slid the extra plate of food to him, “Bad made BLT, his cooking is really good so you’ll like it.” He grabbed half of his own sandwich and bit into it, humming before looking at Tubbo expectantly.

  
The brunette eye’d the sandwich cautiously before reaching and grabbing his half, uncurling to bite into it. Tommy watched in triumph as his eyes lit up a bit and he continued eating, a grin spreading across his face, “See? It’s good!” Tubbo nodded shakily, and the two ate in silence for a bit longer. When they finished, Tommy took the paper plates and tossed them in the trash before looking at the other boy hopefully, “So, are we actually gonna talk without you freaking out like a little bitch now?”

  
On the surface, the question seemed harsh and insulting, but as Tubbo processed Tommy’s tone he quickly realized that it wasn’t meant like that at all. The blond’s voice was teasing and it was clearly meant to be a joke.

  
So, instead of being offended, Tubbo brushed it off and hesitated before asking, “T-Tommy be...be honest with me here, okay?” Tommy nodded, tilting his head in slight confusion, prompting Tubbo to continue, “Why...am I actually here? Wh...Why did you and your family  _ kidnap _ me?”

  
Tommy’s smile widened, “Because like I said, yesterday I turned eighteen!” Tubbo only seemed more lost, and Tommy snickered, deciding to elaborate, “It’s a family tradition type of thing. When a family member turns eighteen, they get the chance to pick their first victim- someone they want to keep either for a long time or even hopefully for the rest of their life. And because you're my friend, I chose you as my first victim so then we can be best friends!” He seemed giddy, and Tubbo paled a bit as he continued, “Though, you don’t have to grab them immediately. Techno didn’t get Bad until he was twenty and Wilbur waited a few months after his eighteenth birthday before grabbing Schlatt. But I didn’t really wanna wait, because I already made up my mind years ago.”

Tubbo felt panic rising again, words leaving him without a filter, “Tommy- we aren’t  _ friends _ ! I didn’t even know you till yesterday! We haven’t even talked before, so what the hell are you on about?!” Tommy’s smile wavered, eyebrows pinching together, “W-well…..I mean...Wilbur said that even though you don’t know a lot about me, we're still friends if I know lots about you-”

Tubbo let out a guffaw of disbelief, “Surely not- You- you and this Wilbur guy are fucking delusional-! You don't know a thing about me!!”

Tommy’s eyes narrowed and he crossed his arms, gaze boring into Tubbo’s as he spoke, “Your full name is Tubbo Koray Mulburn. You know how to play the piano and like to play a lot of meme songs. Your main group of friends in school consists of Quig Quinton- who lives right next door to you-, Jack Manifold- whose family is well known for the park being named after his great grandfather-, and Nolan Purpled- who goes by his last name because his cheater of a mom gave him his first name and it makes him uncomfortable. You sometimes go by they/them and have fun wearing skirts sometimes, but you haven’t gotten the confidence to tell your parents.”

With every word, Tubbo felt himself grow colder, and Tommy let out a loud laugh at his shock. He gave a cocky smile, as if there wasn’t a single thing wrong with what he had just said, “So, believe me now?”

  
The brunette was speechless, unable to process the blonds words. Eventually, he managed to fumble it, “You...you’re fucking crazy...yes I believe you but- but what the fuck is wrong with you?!” He cried, and Tommy’s smile quickly dropped, “What? What did I say?”

  
“What the fuck do you mean “What did I say?”, you fucking know what you said!!”

“You’re the one who said I didn’t know a thing, I was just proving you wrong!”

  
“Again, what the fuck is wrong with you!”

  
Tommy huffed, getting up, “You know what, if you’re gonna keep being a dickhead I'm just gonna play on my laptop! Fuck this!” He went to his desk, sitting down angrily and opening his laptop. Silence took over the room as the blond focused on his computer, and Tubbo took deep breaths. He huddled up against the headboard and hugged his knees, deciding not to poke the bear more than he already had.

He didn’t know what Tommy was capable of, and he silently scolded himself for letting his emotions get ahead of him. For all he knew, he was lucky right now.

  
And hopefully, he would remain that way.   
  


  
=x=   
  


  
“Songbird!!”

The noirette jumped at the shrill voice, flipping off the vacuum as he recognized it as Wilbur’s voice, “Bad!!” The man calls again, and quickly Bad heads to the source of his voice, reaching the basement door.

  
“Bad, I said get down here!”

The noirette sped up, reaching the bottom just as Wilbur turned the corner. The brunette seemed to be in a sour mood, only scowling as he wrestled his jacket on, “I forgot I have to meet some friends at the pub, you need to patch up Schlatt.” He barked as he ran up the stairs, slamming the basement door as he left without another word. For a moment, Bad was about to scold him for actually having messed with Schlatt when his current wounds were not even slightly being healed, but instead he decided against it, standing there for a second in shock at the man's rush, before a weak, hoarse voice met his ears.

“What’s poppin’, pretty thing?”

Bad looked over to the torture room, immediately remembering the task at hand. Schlatt was slumped in the chair as usual and Bad felt alarm, running over and struggling with the leather straps at his wrists and ankles, “Not even the decency to not only let you heal, but also  _ unbind  _ you first…!” He hisses in frustration as Schlatt watches him drowsily, pale as ever from the bloodloss. He doesn’t say a word, vision slightly blurry as he just lets Bad help him stand and limp to the old couch across the room. Just like yesterday, Bad moves through the large basement gracefully, having grown used to the pattern of constantly sewing and patching Schlatt up. He knows where Tommy keeps the medkit for his station on instinct- grabbing and opening it up to take out the bandages, sanitized needle, and medical thread. He quickly snagged up the rubbing alcohol and cotton balls when he heard Schlatt’s hoarse voice speak up again, “Whiskey...please…”

Bad stood again, running upstairs to the kitchen. Usually, they had whiskey for a numbing pain agent- however they’d used the last of it and Phil hadn’t picked more up at the store. He rummaged through the fridge before eventually just grabbing one of the cold beers and rushing back downstairs. He cracked the bottle cap open as he rushed down, handing it to the cut-up brunette before resuming preparations.

Schlatt was quick to start downing the alcohol, letting out a shaky, relieved sigh as Bad got everything in over, “Alright, where are the major wounds first.”

“W….W on my calf, thigh need’s redressing as well. Rest are fuckin’ minor shit…” 

“Language,” Bad reprimanded softly, and the brunette wheezed- coughing a bit as he chuckled, “Right, sorry beautiful.” The two fell into silence as Bad began to patch and stitch the wounds, humming softly. For once, calm fell between them- without the noise of the rest of the family, there was a sense of rare peace they enjoyed.

After stitching and dressing his calf, Bad re-dressed the wound from the crossbow bolt. Then, Bad began to focus on the minor ones- moving closer to disinfect the cut to Schlatt’s forehead. He got on his knees over the brunette's lap, silently cursing Schlatt for being so damn tall. The noirette could feel Schlatt’s eyes on him, slowly coming out of his hazy state and waking up a bit. He tried not to pay mind to any warmth that built inside him, or the distraction that was the small, lazy smile tugging at the older man’s lips. Bad remained focused on the task at hand, lips pressed in a thin line and brows pinched together.

“...Bad?”

The noirette blinked and looked slightly down at the other man with questioning eyes, “Do you taste as sweet as you act?” He tried to keep his voice even, tone playful and genuine. Bad snorted, the cliche of the line not missing him as he started to chuckle, “Is that the best you got?”

“No, but it made you laugh didn’t it?”

“It did…” Bad finished and settled down, not missing how a large, shaky hand gently rested on his waist, “You know me...I love hearing you happy- even for a moment…” The words struck a chord within Bad, speechless as his face warmed. He swallowed dryly, unsure of what to say in return. Cautiously, his opposite hand slipped down and he rested an open palm over Schlatt’s heart- unspoken agreement passing between them as Schlatt did the same thing. Feeling the core organ pulse under his palm was surreal, but intensely comforting. It grounded him, reminding him that Schlatt and him were both still living, breathing human beings. Reminded him that he wasn’t alone in this hell- that there was someone who understood. He felt his own heartbeat start to sync, eyes fluttering shut as he leaned forward and pressed their foreheads together.

At that moment, it felt like they were the only two people in the world- Hearts beating and breathing each other's air in sync. Bad felt happy.

He tilted his head and their lips met in a chaste kiss, melting together in silence. There was no ulterior motive in the action- no sexual charge or force applied. The only intention was comfort and understanding, and the only motive was a developed love between them. Schlatt tasted slightly of iron and alcohol, but Bad had grown used to it. This was the only time they had together, with everybody gone or occupied, a little unspoken bond the two of them shared that just...happened.

  
Okay, maybe Schlatt had lied when he snarked to Techno about not touching Bad. But then again, he had only meant that for that moment- this didn’t count. This, he couldn’t help and neither could Bad.

Because it felt  _ nice _ . To feel genuine love and affection, even for just a moment. For a second, Schlatt thought about leaving a little mark- just something for Bad to touch and remember him- but he knew better. He knew that would jeopardize Bad’s safety- especially if Techno found out.

The two of them didn’t know when this closeness started. How it was, why it worked how it did, even where the feelings came from. But it happened, and they had learned to just accept it. Because it was something pure and untainted.

They kept each other's hopes up. They spoke about what they’d do when it was all over. They talked about escape, they talked about the people they missed and had back home-   
Hell, they even joked about going on a proper date.

  
_ If  _ they survived that long.

  
_ If  _ they escaped.

  
_ If  _ they were rescued.

_ If _ .

As the two sat in the dark of the basement, exchanging whispers and small kisses only meant for them, all that they can think is they wouldn’t trade these brief moments for the world.   
Because these little moments were the only true happiness they got.

  
  
=x=   
  


  
Quackity stood at the statue in the heart of the park, tapping his foot as he watched his watch. A minute till 2.

  
Theres a deep pit in his stomach as he suddenly wishes he asked someone to come with, but then again he has literally no friends in this fucking town. Only friends he did have are currently missing or potentially dead.

  
Fan-fucking-tastic.

  
Quackity growled under his breath as his watch hit 2. He looked around, unable to see a single person, and groaned lowly. Had this been a set up? A prank? Where the hell-

  
“You Quackity?”

  
The noirette jumped, whipping around to see a man who was more than a head taller than him not that far away. He had dark brown hair and wore a green long-sleeve shirt with deep blue jeans. He stood at the entrance to one of the paths, a blank expression on his face as he looked at Quackity with unamusement.

  
  


“Ah...yes?” Quackity laughed nervously, “And you are…?”

  
The man seemed to relax, giving a small smile and walking over, offering his hand. Quackity took it, and the man gave his hand a firm shake, “Sam Alvaro. I know my call was rather...ominous, but I wanted to make sure you really were looking for answers. C’mon, the others are all waiting in a more private area of the park. We can walk and talk.”

  
“Okay…?”

  
Quackity followed Sam down the path hesitantly, noticing it led into the forest surrounding the path, “So Sam...you live around here?”

  
“Yep. I actually work as a security officer at the local school, so it goes without saying that the police’s lack of action concerning the most recent disappearance is rather upsetting for me.”   
“Uh...huh…” Quackity nodded awkwardly as Sam continued, “You?”

  
“Huh?”

  
“Are you from around here?”

  
“Oh- uh...no, actually. I was in law school before this, but I moved into a friend of mine's house after ah...after he disappeared. I wanted to figure out what happened to him.” Sam nodded with a hum, “Understandable…”

  
They both went quiet as they approached voices, and it wasn’t long till they came to a clearing with logs set up like seats. There were 2 people, and as they approached them they went eerily quiet, staring.

  
Sam turned to him, gesturing to the others, “This is Minx and Traves. Minx knew Schlatt, Traves knew Schlatt and Bad, and I knew Tubbo. You aren’t the only one who wants answers, we do too and we’re hoping to give you any info you need to get them.”

  
Quackity gawked in astonishment, hope bubbling in his chest. He was actually getting  _ help _ . These people knew things and they were trusting  _ him _ to help…

He wasn’t going to let them down.

  
Quackity took a deep breath and pulled his backpack off his back, unable to contain his happiness as he fumbled for his phone to record the conversation. He sat on the log and Sam followed suit, unlocking his phone and immediately starting to voice recorder. First, he had to ask, “Okay, first things first; for the record, do you guys consent to being recorded vocally?”   
All three of them affirmed and Quackity suppressed a holler of joy.

  
“Good. Minx, you first. State your name for the record, please?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nobody:  
> Schlatt: "Relax wreak it Ralph, im not gonna touch your Barbie doll!"  
> Also Schlatt: So anyway, that was a lie.


	5. "Happy" pills & Rules

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for a LOT of talk about mental illness, misdiagnose, mistreatment, a bit of blood, and all that bad stuff.
> 
> Disclaimer: I am not trying to portay certain mental illnesses in a bad light nor am I trying to saw people with these illnesses are inherently evil. What Wilbur has in this fic is in no way to blame for his actions, because a fact is that these people are more a danger to themselves than others. They are rarely dangerous. It's the factors around him that have made him how he is, and he was like that before it even started affected him.  
> I've done my best to respectfully portray the following these things, especially through a lot of research, so I hope I did well.
> 
> I have a category in my server dedicated to this fic, so come on in! I'd love to meet y'all and hear feedback, plus you get notifications about new chapters the moment it's updated!  
> https://discord.gg/G648NWcG7q

"...I met Schlatt while out drinkin'. He worked there as a bartender, and lemme tell ya', the man is stubborn like a goat. Loves to read people when he meets them, and if he doesn't like 'em, he lets 'em know! He ain't subtle. Was he an asshole? Fook yes he was!...But, he was an affectionate asshole. The type that ya can't really stay too mad at, because ya know he dun't meant it." Minx's accent was thick as her voice rang through the cell phone, but Quackity listened closely anyway, blank sheets of notepaper on his desk. He had different recordings of each of them- one for Sam, one for Traves, and one for Minx. He'd asked questions until it had gotten later, and the 4 of them had decided to exchange phone numbers in case.

Now that he was home, he had decided to re-listen to Minx's recording first. Schlatt was the first to go missing, so his disappearance might tell something about the others.

"Could you tell anything about the night he disappeared?" Quackity voice came from the recording.

"Now I wouldn't be here if I didn't now, would I?...The night Schlatt disappeared, he had worked a bit later than usual. Now, usually, Vinnie's brings in a lot of shady types- all really suspicious guys who are just there for a cheap glass of alcohol, the cunts- so of course, I don't usually pay anybody any mind for actin' a bit off. But- there was this  _ one _ guy that really just tipped off all the red flags for me."

"Oh?"

"Mhm. Real college boy-esque, guitar playin', slightly emo lookin' bitch- real tall and lanky too, maybe about six four to six five? Could tell he had brown fluffy hair and was wearing a beanie an' trench coat." She started giggling a bit, "Sorry- sorry it's just, I remembered a real dark joke Swagger made. He was there too- but only stuck around for around thirty minutes. He said the guy looked about ready to shoot up a damn school- trench coat and all! Off track, I know. So, He sat in this booth that nobody really likes, 'cause you gotta crane your neck look at the fookin tv, and the lightbulb above it's always flickerin'! The whole night, from around...I think it was around seven to about nine- just thirty minutes before I left and forty-five minutes before Schlatt did- but the entire time, the man didn't even order a drink! He was just watchin' like a damn creep, and I don't even think Schlatt knew or noticed- and after a while I just chose to ignore it. Eventually, the guy left, and shortly after Schlatt asked me out. Can you believe that? And of 'course I accepted- Schlatt's a good lookin' guy, matched a lot of my likes ideally, so I thought why the hell not. I left after wards, and...that was the last time I ever saw him."

"Yikes...This...this guy, can you give a bit more description?"

"I can try. I studied his movements a lot in the times Schlatt was helping another customer- he didn't seem..." There is a brief pause, "Eh...well, ta put it simply, he didn't seem all too right in the head. There would be moments where his gaze would shoot off into a different direction all of a sudden like he'd seen something that wasn't there, he'd constantly fidget- he just acted very abnormally."

"Wait-" Traves piped up, "Can you tell me exactly what he'd do besides that?"

"Well- this was fookin' two years ago, so I could be remembering wrong but- there was  _ one  _ moment where he came up and talked to me and...well, he seemed kind of confused? He spoke very quickly, askin' questions that didn't seem to make sense, but then got frustrated when I couldn't answer. Schlatt had been in the bathroom, and eventually I just told him to fuck off because he was freakin' me out."

"I might be wrong but- that behavior really lines up with how my friend acts Slime when he's off his meds..." Another pause happens as Traves thinks, "He...sort of gets super paranoid about the most random things. He asks us if we see things that aren't there, asks us nonsense questions that get him frustrated when we don't answer- he doesn't think straight at all. However, when he's on his meds he's mostly just fine."

"Do you know what Slime...has?"

"Ah...that's the issue. I...don't really remember. Ted is his caretaker, not me- does a real good job too. Ever since they moved in together, Ted's been reminding him daily and Slime's more than happy to take them, because I think Ted's made him understand that they truly are for Slime's benefit only- there are still times that Slime will suddenly be convinced one of the pills is poison or something and making him take it is...a struggle, but Ted's managed."

"Do you think you can give me Ted's number? I might want to talk to him."

"Sure! Here-" Quackity quickly started scribbling down the number as Traves listed it off.

After a few more questions with Minx, the recorder ends, and Quackity looks down at his list of notes.

Right now, he had one suspect description. A young caucasian male, possibly around six four to six five feet in height, lanky, and brown hair. Another note is he might be just mentally unwell without medication, and seemed to be watching Schlatt for around two hours in a corner that nobody would have noticed him unless looking, and didn't order a single drink while there.

That...that might help narrowing it down…

But there was something that bothered him.

He pulled up Traves’s recording, grabbing a new sheet of paper.

"Bad and I met in freshman year of highschool. His dad is the police chief around here but ah...the guy is really rude. Bad never had it easy with his dad though- the guy expected the world of him and if he was any less than perfect...well...he wasn't that nice. Bad was still a really kind and sweet person none-the-less- real fighter too. I didn't know Skeppy that well though- I just know Bad's dad disapproved of their...friendship? Relationship? I didn't know..."

"Did Bad ever mention anything about maybe...anybody following him?"

"Well- yes, actually. I was also there when it happened too but- unlike what Minx said about Schlatt, Bad was well aware and it seemed almost like the guy was just following him  _ everywhere _ ...The first time I saw him, the guy was white, had slightly dirty blonde hair, wore a deep green, short-sleeved button-up shirt, old, dirty loose jeans and had this straw hat. Decently built, looked strong, maybe in his middle thirties, around a more average height- ...He would've looked normal if he hadn't been watching Bad like a falcon watching prey."

"Did he exhibit any irregular behavior?"

"Other than the stalking thing, no."

Quackity paused the recording.

_ That _ .

That's what was strange.

This was an entirely different suspect.

He flipped to Sam's recording, grabbing yet another blank paper as he skipped through until it got to the part he wanted to hear.

"...Tubbo is a good kid, y'know? Bit of trouble with having a filter, struggled a bit in english...but he was sweet, good humor, the like....So...when he comes up to me bawling his eyes out and trembling like a leaf, of course i'm worried. He tells me that someone has been stalking him, shows me the evidence, and even gets one of his friends down to back him up on some of them. Gave me a name too, Tommy. Now, I'm thinking to myself that- I didn't know of anybody in the school named Tommy! But...well, it's not like I know  _ everybody.  _ So, I look him up in the system and low and behold."

There's the sound of a paper being handed over, and Quackity looks to his side to see the papers Sam gave him.

"Thomas Innit Drystan. Eighteen years old, six foot one, blonde hair and blue eyes-"

Quackity stops the recording.

Three witnesses, three victims, three suspects. But which suspect is the true culprit?

Unless...they all were?

  
  


=x=

  
  


The next morning, Wilbur doesn't get out of bed. He doesn't do anything.

All he does is just...lay in bed, because there's no point that he can find in getting up. He might have just slept, but he feels still so tired and just...numb.

....

He wants them to go away. But he doesn't find it in him to scream them away. What's the point anyway? They just keep coming back. Over. And over.

"Wilbur, it's time to get up!"

And Over.

"Wilbur Soot Drystan!" 

He grips the pillow tightly, a creeping sense of anxiety and fear tingling up his spine as he hears footsteps up the stairs- heavy and loud as his brain goes wild. Suddenly, anxiety spikes through him and he wants someone-  _ anyone _ that he knows he can trust.

The door creaks open and light washes over the room. His eyes snap open and he see's Techno looking at him from the door. His older brother looks tired- and Wilbur can tell from the dirt on his clothes and obvious lack of his jacket that he'd been out farming.

Upon entering, Techno can see the wild look in his brother's eyes, fear and paranoia clear in wide bluish brown orbs.

"Wil?" His voice is a lot gentler when he peers into the room, his shadow cast over Wilbur. The brunette is immediately shooting up, kicking his blankets off desperately, "Techno- Techno thank god-!" He barreled into his older brother, hugging him tightly- much to the other’s sudden confusion. Immediately, he began rambling, "T-the- they're gonna hurt us- they're gonna- and- and the dog, the dog has a  _ chip _ in it Techno-"

Techno's brow furrowed together and he sighed with a deep frown, shaking his head, "Fuck...not this again. Wil, did you take your antidepressants?"

"I don't fucking need antidepressants, Techno, I need us to get out of here-!!"

"Yes, you  _ do _ . Come on you- you'll feel better if you take them." Techno's nose scrunched up as he eye'd the bottle of medication on his younger brother's nightstand- as if he didn't even believe his own words. And even if he did, Wilbur sure as hell didn't.

"Techno please you gotta believe me-!!!"

"Take your damn pills, Wil. Dad pays for them for a reason, and they are supposed to help you." Techno pried Wilbur off of him carefully. He knew how delicate Wil could be when he got like this, his tone sterner and his voice gruff- as if he was quickly losing patience and anger was building inside him.

"But- No- Techno c-come on, you believe me right-"

"I'm not gonna say it again Wilbur!" He snapped, "I don't believe I single load of bullshit you are spewing, so get off of me and take the damn pills!!" Techno felt familiar anger bubbling inside him and bursting out at his brother against his will, jaw clenched and resisting to a voice in the back of his head screaming to clamp his hands around his brother's neck.

  
Wilbur keeps insisting, but all he hears is  _ static.  _ Infuriating nonsense that's grating and irritating in every way and he doesn’t know why it pisses him off so much but it  _ does.  _ His eyes squeeze shut, and suddenly he can see it; the noise stops as he’s bashing Wilbur’s skull into the floor over and over and over, blood splattering and dead eyes...He knew he could do it, really. Wilbur might have been taller, but he was stronger and heavier. He just needed to grasp his hair and- and-

  
Techno growled, picking up Wilbur and carrying him to the bed despite his protests. He dropped him unceremoniously, as he ignored the brunette’s pleas. He was silent, knowing anything coming from his mouth would just serve to cause further anger.

  
He turned his back on him, quickly getting out of the room and slamming the door shut behind him while ignoring Wilbur’s sobs and pleas not to go. He couldn’t think straight, storming to his own room and slamming that door shut as well.

All he sees is red as he flies into a rage, feeling no pain as he starts beating his fists on the walls, pacing his room, screaming and raving while breaking whatever sparked even the slightest irritation in him.

  
When the fire finally simmers down, he’s slumped in the corner of his room, his hands throbbing in pain, his head fuzzy and hammering, entire body trembling as all he feels is regret. His room is dark and a mess, the only light being from a slither in his curtains. He knows this isn’t normal. He knows this isn’t the temperament of anybody fully stable. He knows because not everybody got this pissed off about a clicking noise, or from a lack of silence.

  
He  _ hates  _ this.

  
He hated feeling a complete slave to his anger. He hated not being able to comfort Wilbur during his perceived “episodes”, because he just ended up being riled up so damn fast.

Hearing a soft knock on the door, he barely gives acknowledgement before the doors creaking open and Phil’s looking over the room with critical eyes. There’s a bit of pity in his eyes, as well as genuine sympathy when he looks at Techno’s large form huddled in the corner, knees and hands pulled to his chest.

His bedside lamp lay shattered on the floor, same with a small glass statue, his trash bin kicked, a fist sized hole in the wall…

Phil walked over, getting down on his knees and reaching out slowly, “C’mon mate. Lemme see your hands…” He coaxed softly, tone gentle. Techno gave him a wary look before giving in, showing his hands. They were covered in cuts and blood from the glass, the knuckles scraped to hell. Inspecting them carefully, Phil sighed, “What happened this time…”

  
“W...Wil had another one of his episodes when I checked on him…” He croaked, and Phil frowned with disappointment, “He didn’t take his pills?”

  
Anger flared in Techno again. Pills. Why did his father have to think  _ pills _ were the solution to all their fucking problems?

  
In truth, he wasn’t even really angry with Wilbur himself. A majority of his anger was sourced at their father and all those crackpot doctors Phil had sent Wil to see that couldn’t seem to help him. They gave him pills, sure, yea, that was fantastic- they calmed him down a bit and cleared his head just enough to make him  _ seem _ like a functioning human being- but they never fucking worked and he hated that. He  _ despised _ every idiot that looked at his brother and didn’t do a damned thing to help him, and he came to points where he hated his father for brushing off what was clear to see.

  
“No…” he growled lowly, “He didn’t. And when will you start seeing that that isn’t the fucking  _ problem _ .” His eyes narrowed at the older man, frowning deeply.

  
Phil froze, tensing up. He seemed to be irked by the subject, and Techno knew damn well he was poking a bear with a stick, “Techno...we’ve had this conversation a million times, I’m not having this again…” His voice shook slightly, not looking at Techno as he let go of his hand. Techno snapped back quickly, “Dad when are you going to admit to yourself that-”

  
“Techno, stop.” Phil said firmly.

  
“That there's something seriously medically wrong with Wilbur-”

  
“Techno-!”

  
“That is far worse and more complex than just simply depression!” Techno screamed, refusing to shut up as he started to blow up again, “He’s fucking ranting and raving about nonsense, he thinks Schlatts in love with him and just doesn’t realize it, he- he isn’t okay and those stupid fucking pills do nothing! Their bullshit!!”

  
Phils expression was blank, a dead look in his eyes. Techno stared right back, panting as he tried to keep himself again. Fear slowly settled in his stomach, paling as it slowly dawned on him what he’d just said. His father’s next words were chilling as he slowly stood.

  
“You’re grounded.”

  
Technos eyes widened, a mix of fear and anger rising as Phil turned away, “No dinner, you’ll stay here and think what you did. As for Bad…” Phil seemed to think for a moment, before looking back at Techno with a sharp glare that made him flinch, “He’ll be staying with me until you learn to behave yourself again.”

  
Techno’s entire body was freezing cold, unable to process what had happened as fear took him over. His angel. What was Phil going to do to his angel? No- no no no-

  
He stumbled up and ran to the door just to hear it lock on him. He hit his fist against it, only to immediately cry out as pain shot up his arm, looking once more at his bleeding hands and letting out a frustrated sob. Cursing himself for letting his anger get away from him, Techno dragged himself to huddle in the corner again, nursing his injured hands with frustration and eyeing the door with pure hate.

Completely powerless, all he could do was sit and wait- after all, Phil was the only one with the key. His brothers couldn’t help him even if they wanted to.

  
  


=x=

  
  


Tubbo let Tommy drag him along through the hallway, footsteps light on the floorboards that so easily creaked. The blonde had suggested video games to pass the time, and well, Tubbo was never one to pass that up. Being confined to the bedroom all day was boring, and he had  _ slightly _ gotten over fearing for his life by now.

The two stopped in what looked like the living room and Tommy got on his knees, "Gimme a second."

He looked around the room, quiet as Tommy sorted through his things. He jumped as he spotted another male in the corridor, dusting off an antique looking table of pictures with a distant look.

"Who's...that?"

Tommy looked over his shoulder before making a disgruntled noise, "That's just Bad. He's Techno's pet."

Without warning, the noirettes head shot up, bright green eyes piercing into him. He looked suddenly anxious, and Tommy spoke nonchalantly, "You can go talk to him for now if you want, might take me a bit to get this shit set up."

Tubbo didn't respond, swallowing before walking over hesitantly, "Ah...h-hi?"

"Hi..." Bad echoed back, a deep frown on his lips, "Your...Tommy's pet, aren't you?"

"I guess?"

He only looked further upset by this, sighing, "Tubbo- right?- Look I...you..." He took a deep breath before coming closer, voice hushed, "Tommy...he's a  _ decent _ kid. Really. Just..." He seemed to be looking for the right words, " _ Confused. _ Very, very confused and very misguided. But- just- the others are...Well specifically his two brothers, their  _ also _ very, severely misguided, but in different ways. I want you to listen to me, okay? You have to listen to me if you're going to survive."

He stressed the importance of his words, and Tubbo looked wary, simply nodding slowly. Bad picked up another picture frame, pretending to clean it as he continued quietly, "I've been here...a year? two years? J-just- A long time. Tommy's dad is Phil, and as you can imagine he's the one who makes most of the final decisions. Whatever you do, avoid getting on his bad side." He picked up a picture that looked like a family photo, pointing out a man in the center with blonde hair and dark blue eyes, "H-he can be...moderately lax, I guess..."

He then pointed to another much more frightening man with long hair that was dyed a dusky pink and with blood red eyes- most likely from contacts, "...Techno. He's the eldest. He has anger management issues but I've been  _ attempting  _ to help him improve. If he tells you to stop doing something- if you can, just stop. It's most likely irritating him and will make him lash out. Even better, though, would just be to stay out of his way."

Next, he pointed to a brunette in the picture, looking to be only an inch or two shorter than Techno, "Wilbur- just- avoid him as much as possible. If he rambles just pretend you believe him. He's not the most sound of mind at all..." He trailed off, frowning slightly as he turned to look at him with stern eyes, "Never, ever mention this part to Phil, that clear?"

Tubbo nodded, sudden fear creeping up his spine once more as Bad continued, "Wilbur is...a lot of things. He doesn't take no for an answer a lot of the time. He's insistent. He snaps easily so just- don't try to insist on being right. He's pushy, arrogant, he's..." Bad trailed off once again, this time staring at the photograph, "He's malicious, but pitiful. I... _ dislike _ him, but I also feel bad for him. He often tries to appeal to Phil, seeks approval, he's sadistic and..."

Bad's voice breaks, his hands shaking, "Phil is insistent that Wilbur has depression. He doesn't acknowledge that...that Wil shows a  _ lot _ of symptoms of some sort of Schizophrenic disorder- at least what I've read up on before all this happened and seen in a friend of mine who has it. Do I think it's the reason he acts in the disgusting ways that he does sometimes?"

Before Tubbo could answer, Bad went on firmly as if merely talking to himself now, "No. Because generally, people with Schizophrenia are more a danger to themselves than to others. It's not okay to blame it on the illness when it's who and what's around them that influences them-"

"Bad...?"

He put a hand on the man's arm and he jumped, hands fumbling with the photograph before hugging it tightly to his chest. He looks lost for a moment, eyes a bit glassy as he looks to Tubbo again. He sniffles a bit, "S-sorry I just...forgive that little tangent- every day I seem to run off with my sentences more and more...Just be very,  _ very _ wary of Wilbur..." He mumbled, "Lastly there's ah...there's Tommy. You know him. Tommy is...like I said, he's a good kid- I guess. He's...he's very lonely, and with the rest of his family I can understand why. He has a lot of behavioral issues, but he tries at times and it's almost endearing..." Bad shakily reached out, putting a comforting hand on Tubbo's bicep, "There's written rules I like to follow around here and...they've kept me alive for this long, so I recommend you follow them..."

Speechless, Tubbo nodded for what felt like the hundredth time, and Bad fumbled with the picture frame, opening it to show a folded piece of paper behind the picture. He took it out and quickly put the picture back together, handing Tubbo the little paper, "Read it when you can. I-it's nothing bad so- I don't think you'll get in trouble if you're caught reading it, but be safe anyway-"

There was a call from upstairs and Bad stiffened, swallowing as he put the picture down, "I-i've gotta go. Just- just read it, okay? Promise me?"

"A-alright..." Tubbo was lost, but he promised anyway. Before Bad could run off, a question came to mind and he grabbed the noirettes wrist, "Wait-"

Bad looked at him with confusion, and Tubbo bit his lip, curiosity undying, "A...are there others? Or is it just you and me?" Bad looked nervous before uttering, "There's...also Schlatt-"

"Wait- Schlatt? Jonathan Schlatt? One of the first missing cold cases whose bodies were never found?"

Bad nodded, and Tubbo gawked, "Surely not...he...he's  _ alive _ ? Pretty much everybody thinks he's long dead!" The noirette let out a humorless laugh, "Yeah? I'm pretty sure they think i'm dead too. And...well, he probably would be if I wasn't here-"

"Bad!"

The two gave a start from the second call of the noirettes name, and Bad paled, "Okay I- I really need to go. I'll answer your questions later, I promise-"

Before Tubbo could stop him again, Bad dashed up the stairs as he called up, "Coming!!"

The brunette stood frozen in place for a few, before backing up and turning into the living room once more. Tommy was still trying to set up the console, and he sat down, looking at the folded paper in his hands. Slowly, he unfolded it, noticing how old and worn the paper looked. It felt incredibly fragile, having all sorts of little rips, tears, pencil smudges, and was written on by different colored pencils, pens, and markers.

At the top were different names in different handwriting and colors. 

_ Samantha _ was written in soft pink cursive.  **Scott** was written in cyan blue messy print,  **_Schlatt_** was in shaky, messy handwriting, and  Bad was in a neat, loopy red handwriting.

**Victims rules & tips to staying alive.** was the title, and while he struggled, Tubbo tried to read down the list every so slowly- each rule in a different handwriting.

  
  


  1. _If Phil asks you to do something, do it. It's generally an easy, simple task and he can be very patient._ _  
  
_
  2. _Play nice. Phil has patience, but not if you're rude._ _  
  
_
  3. _Tip: If Phil comments about something he likes on you, keep wearing it if you can. It's like extra points and will improve his mood._ _  
  
_
  4. **Phil has a music box on his dresser. Be careful with it, as it's very precious to him.** **  
  
**
  5. **Don't ever try to run if the doors left unlocked while they are out. It's a test they all do on us "pets", and failure could be deadly.** **  
  
**
  6. **Stick close to whoever picked you, as they are the most likely to protect you against the others.** **  
  
**
  7. **Phil likes his "special meals" every Friday and during special days like birthdays. He likes his meat medium rare.** **  
  
**
  8. **_Wilbur likes it when the person he's torturing screams. DON'T GIVE THAT MOTHERFUCKER THE SATISFACTION!_** ** _  
  
_**
  9. If Wilbur corners you, and somebody else is in the house- especially your "caretaker"- scream. Scream for help as loud as you can, because any one of the others will stop him.  
  

  10. If Techno is having trouble sleeping, ask Phil for the music box and play it for him.  
  

  11. Techno has a temper. If he tells you to stop doing something, it's a warning he's getting agitated, so try your best to stop it if you can.  
  

  12. Never, ever try to take an electronic that's lying around.  
  

  13. If Wilbur is rambling nonsense, just pretend like you agree and understand and he'll eventually leave you alone.  
  

  14. Never try and take Wilbur's alcohol from him. EVER.  
  




"Aha!" Tommy shouted and Tubbo quickly folded up the paper again, stuffing it in his pocket. The console turned on, and he grinned widely before looking at Tubbo, "So, what do you wanna play?"

"Ah...d-do...you have..." He struggled to think of a name before finally deciding on one, "Mario Odyssey?"

Tommys eyes lit up, "Hell yea I do!" He rummaged through a small shelf of games and Tubbo sighed in relief, his mind still stuck on the list of rules. How many years had that been around? How many "victims" had there been? Who were Samantha and Scott?

And most importantly...how many years has this family gotten away with this, and would he  _ ever  _ escape?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just like I said up top, Wilbur's actions cannot be blamed on him having schizophrenia for multiple reasons, but another thing is that schizophrenia only really kicks in around your 20s and Wilbur's actions predate that by a LONG time. Why the boys act the way they do daily has a lot more to do with external influence and simply just elements around them, not any mental illness.


End file.
